Treading Water
by Mabel Marsters
Summary: To others Spike is a hero, though he feels like anything but.  His actions saved a life and changed his own forever.  Now he must learn to really live again, not just settle for treading water.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

"So that's it then?" Spike was amazed at how even his voice remained.

"I'm afraid so."

The apologetic tone in the doctor's voice made Spike cringe. He'd heard that tone in way too many voices since that night.

He swallowed hard, nodding. "Okay. Right."

"There's an excellent facility just forty minutes away. It's managed by a friend and former colleague. I could give her a call if you like? It would be a good place to be for a while."

"Don't be ridiculous!"

The high-pitched voice indicated his mother had entered the room. He squeezed his eyes shut and then bit back a sob at how bloody stupid a gesture that was now.

"He'll be coming home with me." His mother took his left hand in hers, not seeming to notice it was clenched into a fist. "I'll not have strangers looking after my boy. Not when he's in this state."

Spike heard the doctor's sharp intake of breath at that comment.

"Mrs. Pratt-Giles, your son would benefit from the program they run," the doctor continued gamely. "It would help him get the most out of his life. Help him learn to be independent again."

Spike wondered if this is how it was going to be from now on. People talking as if he wasn't there. As if they were the ones who were blind.

"Independent?" his mother squawked. "He doesn't need to be independent. He needs to come home. That's right, isn't it, darling?" She squeezed Spike's hand.

_No! I couldn't stand living with you before! And now…_

"Sure."

His mouth apparently didn't take any notice of the words that echoed in his brain. But what did it really matter? He was twenty-four years old and his life was over. He jerked as a sloppy kiss was planted on his forehead without any warning.

"See," said his mother triumphantly, as if she'd won a competition. "Oh!" Her brain caught up with what she'd just said. "I didn't mean… I just meant that it showed you'll do best with me caring for you."

"I know, Mum." His voice was hollow.

He wanted to run – bolt – race out of this room. Out of the hospital. Hell, out of this fucking country. But since he only had a vague idea of where the door was and walking was enough of a challenge, Spike stayed where he was and listened to the doctor and his mother continue to talk about him as if he wasn't there.

_My eyes are fucked, not my brain!_

But it didn't matter because his life was over. He might be living, but he'd never be _alive_ again.

*~*~*~*

They'd given him a stick - a nice retractable white one, with a loop on the top so he could keep it on his wrist and not lose it if he needed to pick something up. His mother had taken one look at it and snatched it out of his hand.

"You don't need that thing! You're at home. It's all familiar to you and I'm not having you go outside alone."

Familiar.

But not easy to navigate when you hadn't set foot in the bloody place for four years. Not easy when it was crammed full of furniture. Not easy when the furniture seemed to be moved every second day.

The one place he'd yearned for – his old bedroom – was off limits. It was upstairs and his mother had deemed the thought of her son attempting the stairs 'in his condition' just too much of a risk and so had converted one of the numerous rooms downstairs into a bedroom for him.

The stupid cow didn't even think how ironic it was to have moved him into the old library with its walls full of glass-fronted bookcases. So now, even escape into his own room offered no solace, as the weight of the words he'd never be able to read seemed to crush him a little more each day.

*~*~*~*

"Come on, darling. Time for your stroll around the garden."

His mother arrived in the room with the waft of her heavy floral perfume tainting the air.

"I don't want to go."

Spike had said it every day in the six weeks he'd been here, and every day she'd done exactly the same: ignored him.

"Don't be so silly. It's a lovely day. The fresh air will do you good."

Her manicured fingernails dug into the flesh of his arm, and he steeled himself against the urge to throw her across the room. He didn't need to see to know they were blood red. He'd never seen her use any other colour.

With a sigh, he allowed her to help him to his feet and shuffled beside her like the invalid she made him feel. She prattled on about the many upcoming charity functions that she _just had to attend, darling._ As usual, he zoned out of her inane chatter until something permeated his brain.

He stood still.

"What?" He shrugged off her vicelike grip. "What the fuck did you just say?" He could scarcely breathe for the fury building inside.

"Language, William," said his mother, unfazed by his outburst. "I merely said that I have arranged for a nurse to come to watch over you while I am out."

"A baby-sitter?" Could his life get any worse? He pointed a finger in what he hoped was the right direction. "You don't think I'm capable of being home alone? I'm twenty-four, not four!"

"But you're blind, sweetie." His mother clutched his arm once more. "I would just be worried sick about you all night and not be able to enjoy myself at all. I mean…what if there was a fire?"

"Mum…look…please."

"Now, now, William. It's all organised and I know that you're not so selfish as to want me to worry. Now let's go for our stroll. You're all grouchy because you need some fresh air."

"Yeah, that's what's wrong alright."

She totally missed his sarcastic tone.

"Well, you'll be right as rain in no time."

The daily walk in the large grounds might have been pleasurable but for the way his mother pointed out how seemingly every blade of grass apparently only existed in order to try to trip him up. The constant weight of her on his arm made him feel more out of balance, not less so.

He had no idea how he could carry on living like this, but even suicide was harder when you were blind. The pills and liquor were locked away and the kitchen was locked when the cook wasn't there. _Can't have you getting scalded can we, darling? _So sharp knives were out too. The house was only two storeys high and so even flinging himself from an upstairs window would probably maim and not kill.

Not that he'd thought of things like that. No. Of course not. Never crossed his mind.

*~*~*~*

Spike sat in his favourite chair, eyes closed as he listened to the radio. His moment of peace was disturbed by the familiar click, click, click of his mother's stilettos as she approached. He shifted position as he heard other footsteps along with hers. The infamous nurse no doubt.

"Darling!" He stiffened as his mother enveloped him in a theatrical hug. "Don't get up. But I've brought your nurse to meet you before I go out. Now I assure you that he comes with the highest recommendation. Nothing but the best for you, sweetie."

Spike's little fantasy of having some statuesque Swedish blonde look after him disappeared like so many of his dreams had.

"William, this is Daniel Osbourne. Daniel, my son, William."

"Hello," said Daniel. "Nice to meet you."

Spike nodded, until prodded by his mother on his arm. He shrugged his arm away, and all but growled. "Oh for Christ's sake." He turned towards where he thought the nurse was standing. "Hi."

"I apologise for my son—"

"Don't fucking apologise for me! I'm not a child."

"No, darling. You're just behaving like one." She patted his arm and then guided the nurse out of the room.

"You see what I have to put up with," she said, rolling her immaculately made up eyes and shaking her head.

"I sure do."

"Are you sure you'll be able to deal with him? I will pay you extra. It's just that I really do have to go. It's for the starving in Africa, you know?"

"I'll be fine. I'll look out for him until you get home."

"Oh, thank you so much." She kissed the air somewhere in the region of his left cheek and then tottered down the hallway on her Manolo Blahniks.

He waited until the front door slammed shut, before he took a deep breath and walked back to his charge's room. He tapped on the open door and paused, waiting for an answer.

"Look. This was all her idea. Why don't you just piss off into the living room – fourth door on the right – and watch telly 'til she gets back."

"Why don't we just start over? 'Cause that introduction wasn't at all embarrassing, was it?"

Spike snorted. "Should be used to it by now, but…"

"It's a fairly common reaction."

"She's always been like that…even before…" Spike waved his hand towards his eyes.

"Oh, man! That sucks."

Despite himself, Spike laughed. "You're not wrong." The laughter tailed off and he added, "Daniel, I know you're here to do a job, right? But I'd really like to be alone."

"Oz."

"Huh?"

"Call me Oz, not Daniel, and please never Nurse Osbourne."

The corners of Spike's mouth twitched upwards. "Must say I was hoping that if I was having a nurse foisted on me that it'd be some big bird with even bigger tits."

"Sorry to disappoint." The smile was apparent in Oz's voice. "Do you mind if I sit down?"

"Suppose not. There's an extremely uncomfortable chair somewhere over there." Spike pointed.

"Gee, thanks."

Spike inclined his head in acknowledgement. "Mum generously donated the pieces of furniture she liked the least when she kitted out this room for me."

The creak of leather gave away the fact that Oz had sat down.

"So you've just moved back in?"

"Yeah… She was right, not fit to be on my own."

"Maybe not at first, but in time, why not?"

"Look, don't okay?" Spike said, his voice low. "This is what my life is now. No point in thinking anything else." He turned away so that Oz wouldn't see the tears threatening to overflow.

"How old are you, William?"

"Christ, call me Spike. She's the only one who still calls me that."

"So, Spike. How old are you?"

"Twenty-four, why?"

"Just… no – forget it. None of my business."

"No. Go on."

"It's just… Do you like living here?"

"What? No. I fucking hate it. I fucking hate all of it!" He swept his arm out, knowing it would knock the radio off the table beside him. "I didn't ask for this!"

Oz was on his feet in an instant.

"Hey, look I'm sorry."

Spike pulled his legs up into his chair and pressed his face against his knees. "I can't…it's…"

His words were lost as they dissolved into sobs. For the first time since he'd woken into this dark world, he began to cry and found he couldn't stop.

Oz stared at him for a while and then slowly approached. He tentatively touched Spike's shoulder, unsure of what reaction he'd get. To his relief Spike didn't shake off his hand, and as the man continued to weep, Oz squeezed his shoulder, silently communicating his support.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Betad by the lovely seapealsh and dawnofme!

**Chapter Two**

Spike hiccoughed himself to a stop and then stiffened beneath Oz's hand.

"Oh…shite…uh…not sure where that came from." His face gained a little colour as embarrassment set in.

"Hey, man, don't worry about it. It's normal. I'm guessing that's the first time…?" Oz's matter of fact voice was so different from Spike's mother's.

Spike nodded and, wiping his red-rimmed eyes with the back of his hand, he unfurled his legs and sat up straighter. Oz took that as his cue to take his hand away and went over to resume his place on the armchair.

"Yeah. Stupid. Crying like a baby."

"It's grief."

"What? Nobody's dead."

"You're grieving over the loss of your sight. It's normal…though most do it within the first few weeks. Your mother said the accident was about five months ago."

"Uh…it was on the seventeenth of May at six-forty-seven. Is that really five months ago?" It felt like years since his life had changed so dramatically.

"Yeah. Today's October tenth." He glanced at his watch. "Eight-twenty-two."

"Some nurse you are – you're taking the piss." The corners of Spike's mouth twitched as he tried not to smile. Being spoken to like that made him feel normal.

Spike could hear Oz's shrug in the tone of his voice. "It just seemed as if you had a thing about times. How do you know to the minute, anyway?"

"Police report."

Oz could see Spike beginning to close down again. "Don't take this the wrong way, but are you an alcoholic?"

Spike's eyes widened in surprise. "No. What sort of bloody question is that? The accident wasn't my fault!"

"Hey…calm down. That's not why I asked. It's just your mom told me that the liquor was all locked away so I figured…"

"It's locked away, because _you can't get drunk in your condition, sweetie. You already fall over the furniture – just think how much worse it would be if you were drunk._"

Oz chuckled at Spike's impersonation of his mother. "Well as your nurse, I really think you should talk about the accident, and I think a large slug of brandy or something would be medicinal, don't you?"

"God…what I wouldn't give for some JD."

Spike closed his eyes and remembered the last time he'd been out for a drink. Shite, he'd been so wasted, the lads had had to carry him back to their flat. They were on the other side of the Atlantic now. Gone. Just like his vision.

"I'll see what I can do."

"You're gonna break into her drinks cabinet? What sort of nurse are you?"

"She showed me where she'd hidden the key – in case it looked like you might find it." The leather creaked as Oz stood up. "As for what sort of a nurse…" His voice was fading as he strode out of the room. "…a damn good one."

"Modest, too," muttered Spike.

He wondered what Oz looked like. That was something he found difficult, having no idea what people looked like.

A few minutes later, Oz returned. Spike could hear the chink of ice against the crystal and swore he could smell the liquor as Oz entered the room.

"Don't tell on me, okay? Don't want to be fired." Oz placed the glass in Spike's outstretched hand.

"Don't worry, I won't grass you up." Spike took a deep swallow of the fiery liquid and rested the cool glass against his forehead as it warmed him on its way down.

"So, what happened?"

"Nothing too dramatic. I'm sure Mum would have liked it to be a bit more spectacular. Was just a car crash."

One he relived in his dreams most nights.

"I was over in England. My mum and dad had divorced when I was fifteen. Dad managed to persuade Mum to let me finish my education over there. She didn't take too much persuading. Wasn't too worried about not having a snot-nosed kid cramping her style. I came over here for holidays, well, until I was twenty, I did."

"What happened then?" The ice in Oz's glass chinked as he drank. No need to tell Spike that his drink was just mineral water.

Spike's expression clouded. "My Dad died. He'd been ill for years, and I'd never do anything to upset him. So I did as I was told and spent holidays over here, but when he was gone there was nothing to make me come. I hadn't been to the States after that until now."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah… he was a good bloke. Anyway, I stayed over there. I had this old car – a classic – Ford Anglia – like a small version of the big US cars. God, I loved that car. Could go like shit too. It was so old it didn't have seat belts fitted. I kept meaning to get some put in, but…" He took another gulp at his drink. "I was driving to a gig – punk band called Stiff Little Fingers – and this kid ran out into the road chasing a ball." He closed his eyes. "I didn't think about anything apart from not hitting him. I hauled on the wheel and the last thing I remember is seeing the boy's face as I passed him."

"So you saved his life…"

"Yeah. Got a letter from his mum. The nurses read it out to me, when I woke up a couple of weeks later. I'd hit the side of a building head on – literally. With no seatbelt I went through the windscreen. They say it was a miracle I survived."

Spike's tone left Oz in no doubt that Spike wished he hadn't.

"Mum was listed as my next of kin, and when the docs over there said I'd never see again, she insisted on seeing specialists here. But they said the same. The optic nerves have been irreparably damaged. No hope of a cure. So here I am."

"Damn."

Spike snorted. "Yeah."

"So what do you do all day?"

"What do you mean?" Spike tipped his head on one side.

"How do you pass the time? Aren't you bored?"

"Not a lot I can do, mate. I'm no fucking use to anyone."

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"I just didn't peg you as one, that's all," Oz said.

Spike drained the last of his JD. "One, what?"

"A quitter."

"Fuck off." Spike's fist tightened around the glass. "I'm not a quitter. It's just…I'm fucking BLIND!"

"So?" Oz's voice was quiet and calm.

"So? So?" Spike spluttered. "So…I can't do anything. I'm stuck here. Even need a babysitter when there's no one else home!"

"No, Spike. Your mother has you stuck here and you're letting her do it."

"Get out! Now! Just go!"

"I'll be in the living room. You're blind. Not dead. You need to live, not just exist."

Oz walked out of the room, casting a glance back at the man he hoped he'd goaded out of his apathy. When Spike's mother had contacted the hospital wanting the name of a good private nurse, the doctor had contacted Oz and told him of the overbearing mother and the still-in-shock man who needed to learn to live again. It was the sort of case that Oz relished.

Spike sat there breathing heavily as he tried to control his emotions. What gave Oz the right to speak to him like that? It's not like it was true. He wasn't a quitter.

_Aren't you?_

"Oh, don't you start," Spike muttered at the little voice in his head.

Five minutes later, he stood up.

"Quitter! I'll fucking show him."

He held onto the back of the chair as he began to make his way to the door. His mother's tendency to move things had eroded what little confidence he'd had about walking around. Sure enough, his shin caught on a footstool that Spike hadn't even known was in the room.

"Ow…bollocks."

Slowly he made his way to the door and then kept his fingertips touching the wall as he went down the corridor. The fourth door was open and Spike paused for a moment. The living room was the worst place for moving furniture. He never had a clue as to what was where. Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside and moved to the left a little before Oz's voice made him stop dead.

"Table! There's a coffee table there. Hold on. I'll help you."

Spike could feel a blush heat the skin of his neck. Would he ever get used to this? He heard Oz's approach and waited for the man to grab his arm as his mother did, but to his surprise he didn't.

"Uh…are you going to help me, or what?"

"Sure. I'm waiting for you to take my arm. Just reach out with your right and you'll find me."

"Oh…right."

Spike hesitantly moved his hand and his fingers touched Oz's cotton covered arm. Oz guided Spike's hand to his elbow.

"It's easier if you hold here, and then walk with me, okay?"

"Okay."

"Trust me."

Spike nodded.

By the time they'd reached the couch, Spike's strides had become less hesitant as his confidence in not actually falling over something increased.

"Thanks," Spike said as he sat down.

"How come you don't know the layout of the room by now?"

"My mother gets bored of things in the same place. Just when I suss out where everything is, she changes it. And before you ask why I haven't got a stick, the hospital gave me one, but she took it off me. Said I didn't need it, but I reckon she just didn't like watching me using it."

"She's a piece of work," Oz said, his usually even voice having a bit of an edge to it.

"Hey! That's my mum you're dissing," Spike said. "But you're right. I think she likes the idea of having me here. Something to tell her friends about."

"We need to get you set up with some things that will help you. I didn't see a computer in your room…there are plenty of programs for you to use on one, so you're not so cut off. We need to get you another cane if we can't get your mother to leave things were they are."

As Oz went over all the things that he needed, Spike began to feel hope that his life might have more meaning for the first time since he'd woken up in the English hospital.

"What time is it?" Spike asked suddenly.

"Watch – that's another thing for the list," said Oz, making Spike chuckle. "It's almost midnight. Are you tired? Do you want to go to your bedroom?"

"I'm not tired. But I do want to go to my bedroom."

"Huh?"

"Before she gets back, will you help me go to my old bedroom – the one upstairs?"

"Sure. She said she wouldn't be home until around one."

"Great." Spike stood up, his hand already seeking Oz's elbow.

Once he had hold of him, Oz walked slowly to the door.

"Which way do we go?"

"To the right. The stairs are in the main foyer. Then my room's third on the left."

"Okay."

They walked along in silence for a while before Spike said, "You're not very tall are you?"

Oz chuckled. "Neither are you! But yeah, I'm a little shorter than you. I'm also stockier and my hair is dyed a weird sort of orangey colour."

"You're joking!"

"I wish I was. It was supposed to be bright red but something went wrong."

"Christ, I would've loved to have seen Mum's face when she saw you. She freaked the first time I came home for the holidays with bleached hair." The laughter died in his throat. He'd never see anyone's expression again.

"Think it was only the personal recommendation from your doctor that got me in the door." He stood still. "We're here."

Spike fumbled for the handle and then pushed the door open.

"There's nothing in your way if you go straight forward," said Oz.

"Thanks."

Spike stepped inside and turned his head from side to side, his mind's eye filling in what he couldn't actually see. The shelf heaving with battered paperbacks. The posters of his favourite bands. The black and red cover on his bed. The acoustic guitar on its rack in the corner. He swivelled round to face Oz.

"What's it look like? She hasn't done it out, has she? My stuff's still here?"

"Well, unless she's a secret emo then no – I think it's still all you."

"Thank God for that." He pointed to the right corner. "Is my guitar still there?"

"Yeah. It's there. Do you want me to get it?"

Spike shook his head. "No. I will."

He walked around the bed and picked the guitar up by its neck, making the strings twang. Backing up, he sat on his bed and thumbed the strings, grimacing at how out of tune it was.

"Need any help tuning it?" asked Oz.

Spike could feel him sit on the bed. "No. I can do it." He stroked his hands over the dusty wood. "I've wanted to get my hands on her for years."

Oz leaned closer. "Wow, a Taylor. How could you leave it behind?"

"It wasn't easy." Spike closed his eyes as he began to tune the guitar. "Do you play?"

"Yeah. Got a band. We're not much good and break up about every five minutes, but have a lot of fun too. You'll have to come to listen to us. You said you liked punk so you probably won't mind how bad we are."

Spike laughed. "Uh…not sure about going to a gig…all those people—"

"You won't get lost in the crowd at a Dingoes gig, I promise you. If you want to come you can always listen from back stage if you like?"

"I'll think about it, okay?"

"Sure, no pressure, man."

Spike smiled at Oz gratefully. "Thanks."

"Do you want to take your guitar downstairs? Not sure your Mom will appreciate me letting you come upstairs."

"Or drink – don't forget the liquor," Spike said with a grin.

"I figure that I'm here to do what's best for the patient, but it's not great to antagonise the employer so…" He stood up.

"Yeah. Not a good idea to upset my mother." Spike got up and transferred the guitar to his left hand as he gripped Oz's elbow with his right. "Better get me back to my room before I turn into a pumpkin or a bloody mouse or something."

They both laughed, and soon Spike was settled back in his usual chair in his current bedroom. He pulled the guitar onto his knee and cocked his head as he listened to the tone. Oz had seen that expression before. That look of intense concentration where the only thing that mattered was the guitar and you.

"I'll leave you to it. See you in a couple of days, okay?"

Spike nodded absently. "Yeah, no worries." He hadn't even noticed Oz's use of the word _see_. He heard the hinge of the door squeak as Oz began to pull it shut.

"Oz?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"Anytime."

By the time the door had closed, Spike's attention was once again on his guitar. For the first time since the accident he felt whole as he began to play.

TBC

A/N Fear not! Buffy appears in the next chapter :D


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"Morning, sweetie!" His mother burst into the room as fresh as a daisy despite her late night. "Did that nurse look after you okay? He looks a little odd, but was well recommended, but if—"

"Mum!" Spike rubbed a hand over his face and shifted until he was sitting up. "He was fine."

"What's this doing here?" The guitar gave out a twang as she picked it up.

"Leave it."

Spike's firm tone was enough to make her pause.

"Did you go to get this? How could he let—"

"Jesus! I asked him to get it, okay? I need something to do, Mum. I'm going out of my mind. I can still play the guitar. I can't do much else, but I can do that."

"Hmm…Well, if it keeps you happy."

Spike wasn't so sure it could be termed as happy, but it let him forget for a while the limitations that his blindness put on him.

"So…did you have a good time?" he asked.

The bed sank as she sat on it and patted his knee. "Oh, darling it was wonderful! We raised so much money and we even had a retired senator there. Such a shame your father—"

"Stepfather."

"Don't be mean. Such a shame that he couldn't be there. He'll be home at the weekend. Won't it be great? We'll be like a family again." She dropped a kiss on Spike's head. "I missed you when you stopped coming to see me."

Spike felt a momentary pang, but couldn't help but mutter a little bitterly, "Yeah, well, I'm making up for it now, aren't I? Here to stay."

"It's always been your home, William." She gave him a hug. "Now get out of bed, lazybones, and I'll get cook to bring your breakfast in.

"Okay."

She left in her usual whirlwind, leaving the door open. Spike sighed and pushed the covers back. Since he'd been back she hadn't eaten one meal with him, instead insisting that his meals were brought to him. Spike was sure that she didn't want to see him fumbling to find the food on the plate like he had in hospital.

Just after he'd dressed in the sweatpants and t-shirt his mother had bought him, the cook arrived with his breakfast tray.

"Morning, Spike. How are you today?"

"I'm fine thanks, Lottie. What have I got?"

"Bacon sandwiches, with plenty of ketchup, and a cup of tea. How does that sound?"

"Perfect." He smiled.

Lottie seemed to pick up on his embarrassment at finding food a little difficult to deal with and consequently as much as possible made it things he could pick up with his fingers.

"I'll come back for the tray later. It's just on the table near your chair, is that alright?"

"Great, thanks."

After his breakfast, Spike spent most of the day playing his guitar, making time pass quicker than it ever had seemed to before. When his mother came to get him for his walk, he insisted on holding her arm, not the other way around and could move with more confidence, although he still didn't trust her as much as he had Oz.

Spike's stepfather arrived home on Friday night after Spike had retired to his bedroom. He tapped at the bedroom door and waited for Spike to give him permission to enter.

"Spike…I'm so sorry that I wasn't here when you were allowed home."

"'S okay."

"So…" The older man crossed the room and sat in the squeaky leather chair that Oz had used. "How are you…really?"

Spike turned his face in the direction of the voice. "Well…it's…" He shrugged.

"Yes, quite. Has your mother been…all right? I know how she can be."

"She's just Mum, yeah? Can't help how she is, Rupert." Spike had forgotten what a decent bloke Rupert Giles actually was.

"No…No, she can't, but she can be a tad overbearing. You have a home here for as long as you need it, and…" He coughed to cover the emotion that thickened his voice. "If there's anything you need, anything…just ask."

With a grin, Spike fumbled on the table for the list Oz had written. "Funny you should say that. I wondered if I could have this stuff? I can pay for it – just there wasn't any point in asking Mum about it. She switches from liking the drama of having a blind son living with her, to pretending the accident never happened and there's nothing wrong with me."

"William…that's not very nice."

"I know – it's true though. So will you get them for me?"

"Consider it done."

The chair creaked as he rose and he put a hand on Spike's shoulder. "I'm proud of you, and I know your dad would have been too."

Before Spike could respond, Rupert was gone.

"He'd've been prouder if I'd fitted the fucking seatbelts," he muttered.

Oz came over a couple of days after all of Spike's equipment had arrived.

"Wow," he said as he cast his eye over the brand new laptop and accessories.

"Cool, huh?" Spike held out his wrist to show his Seiko braille watch "And I don't have to leave the sodding radio on all day so I know the time."

"Good. I met your step-dad. Seems nice."

"He's okay. Used to hate him of course for taking Mum off my dad, but it wasn't his fault I suppose."

"It's a nice evening," said Oz. "Do you want to go sit outside? I've brought a couple of beers – they're in my car."

"Yeah, great."

Spike reached out and his fingers unerringly found the retractable cane he'd managed to persuade his mother to let him use. He flicked it out to full length and stood up.

"Had a word with her about moving stuff too. Banned her from touching anything in here."

"Good for you."

Oz walked beside him as Spike slowly made his way to the garden. It was clear that he was still unsure of himself, but it was a hell of a lot better that the previous week. Soon the pair was sitting on the patio, sipping bottles of Bud and chatting as easily as old friends.

"Your hair still orange?" asked Spike with a grin.

"Nope. Brown. Very boring. Are you going to bleach yours again?"

Spike ran his hand over his hair. "Needs cutting. Not sure about the bleach job. Doesn't seem much point."

"No…not if you never leave here," said Oz, taking the cap off another bottle and passing it to Spike.

"Don't start…"

"I've got the day after tomorrow off. I'll go with you to get your hair seen to if you like."

Taking a couple of gulps of beer to give him a bit of time, Spike had to suppress a belch before speaking. "I dunno…I haven't been anywhere since…"

"Isn't that a good reason to go now then? You can't stay here forever. The world's still out there, Spike. It's just waiting for you to dive back in."

"I know I'm just sort of treading water, but I know I'm safe here, yeah? I'm not sure I'm ready."

Oz's hand touched Spike's shoulder briefly. "I understand how you feel, but out there isn't full of sharks. You can't live in isolation forever."

"I know. I know." Spike rubbed his hand over his face.

"So, we're on? I'll get it organised?"

"Christ, you're a bloody bully, that's what you are. I'm going to have to report you."

"I leave no visible marks. They'll never believe you."

Spike laughed. "Git!"

"So?"

"Okay." There was a short silence until Spike spoke again. "Oz, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"What do my eyes…look like?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do they look hideous?" He rubbed a hand through his hair. "Can you tell?" His voice was low.

"Oh…I get you. Your eyes look normal. Not even a bit cloudy. You've got a couple of small scars, the worse is on your left eyebrow. To say you hit a brick wall, you're amazingly scar-free."

"Was lucky that a cosmetic surgeon was on duty when I came in. Offered to fix me up. Thanks for letting me know. I asked Mum, but…"

"Didn't realise you were vain."

Spike could hear the grin in Oz's voice. "I am not…just nice to know whether people are going to run off screaming at the look of me."

"Well, they still might, but it won't be because of the accident."

"Sod off," Spike said without heat.

"You'll be fine, Spike. It won't be as bad as you think it will be. I'll make sure you're okay."

"Hmm…anyway…what else do you get up to when you're not being Nurse Osbourne?

It's was Oz's turn to complain.

"I told you! Never call me that! Never."

Pleasantly buzzed by the couple of beers, Spike laughed harder than he had in a long time.

"I'm not sure I can do this," said Spike, when Oz arrived.

"Sure you can." Oz leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms.

"I'm in fucking sweatpants!"

Oz snorted with laughter. "There was me thinking you were nervous of going out."

"What? I am. That's what I've just said!"

"No," said Oz. "You complained about your pants."

"Same thing."

Oz shook his head. "It's not."

Spike tugged at the baggy leg of his pants. "It bloody is! I can't go out like this." He glared in the general direction of the door. "What are you wearing?"

"Jeans and a t-shirt."

"Exactly!"

"But I don't own anything other than jeans and the pants for my uniform."

"You wear a uniform?" Spike smirked a little.

"Only when I work in the hospital. And before you ask, the pants are navy blue and the shirt's white. Now can we get going?"

"No! I'm still in sodding sweatpants. I've got some jeans here, or I did unless Mum's binned them, but she's out and I have no clue where they might be."

"Jeez…you really are a bit vain, aren't you?" Oz pushed himself off the doorframe and walked towards Spike. "Sit down for a minute, I'll check out the closets."

To Spike's utmost relief, Oz found a pair of faded black jeans in a suitcase that had been shoved under the bed. He turned around whilst Spike put them on and chuckled when Spike next spoke.

"What colour's this t-shirt?"

"Pink."

"Oh, bloody hell!" Spike tugged it over his head and threw it away, not caring where it might end up.

Oz doubled up laughing.

"Piss off! She's been treating me like a life-size Ken doll every since I came out of the hospital."

"I'm sorry…I was joking…it was dark green."

Spike glared at him for a moment longer, before he started to laugh too. "You really are a git. Where is it?"

Oz retrieved the errant shirt and they finally made their way outside. To try to hide his nervousness at leaving the cloistered environment of the large house and grounds, Spike asked what car Oz drove.

"It's a van. We use it for the band's stuff when we have a gig."

"Oh, right."

Spike shifted from foot to foot as Oz opened the passenger door and then turned to him.

"Here, let me give you a hand. It's a big step up, okay?"

Not trusting himself to speak, Spike nodded as he climbed into the van.

_I can do it. It's only a bloody hair cut._

His heart beat so hard that he could hear it in his ears. He gripped the edge of the seat hard enough to make his knuckles white.

"Seatbelt," said Oz.

"Huh?"

"You need to fasten your belt."

"Oh right." Hand trembling, Spike struggled to snap it into place before Oz leaned over to help.

Seeing Spike's ashen face, Oz said quietly, "We don't have to go."

A muscle ticked in Spike's jaw as he shook his head. "If I don't go now, I never will. I'll be okay."

Without another word, Oz shoved the van into gear and drove into the nearby town of Sunnydale. He pulled up at the curb right outside the salon and glanced over at Spike.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be." Spike gave a weak smile and reached for the door handle.

Oz leapt out of the van and rushed round to help Spike as he stepped down.

"It's just a couple of strides to the door. The floor's level, okay?" said Oz quietly. "Where's your cane?"

"Uh…I don't want…"

"That's okay. Just take my elbow."

As soon as the pair entered, the stylist came forward and guided Spike to the chair nearest the basins.

"Hi. I'm Amelia. Oz tells me you want a cut and your hair lightened."

"Um…yeah, please."

Spike flushed as he sat facing the mirror he knew must be there. He had to fight the urge to ask Oz how many people were in the salon. With the radio playing and the chatter of several voices, he had no clue as to numbers. The scrape of a chair to his left made him jump but Oz's familiar calm voice helped him relax.

"Only me." He touched Spike's arm briefly. "Want a cup of coffee?"

"Yeah, thanks."

Oz called out to someone called Tara that they did both want coffee, and then he spoke to Amelia.

"So…I think he should go blue, don't you?"

"No!" said Amelia and Spike together.

"Chicken," muttered Oz, pleased to see some of the tension leaving Spike.

By the time Spike's hair had been highlighted and cut, he was a little more talkative with Amelia. She winked at Oz and mouthed 'he's gorgeous' as Spike was paying.

"Hey, Spike. Amelia thinks you're gorgeous."

"Oz!" Amelia shrieked.

Spike grinned but went crimson and almost dropped his wallet.

"You just mouthed it to me. Don't lie."

"I'm going to kill you, Oz. You weren't supposed to tell him!"

"I keep telling him that he's a git," said Spike.

"That's a good word! I'm going to remember that one!" Her hand brushed Spike's. "See you in about six weeks to do your roots, okay? It's been nice meeting you."

"Uh…thanks." It seemed silly that he dipped his head through feeling embarrassed when it wasn't done to avoid eye contact, but he dipped it all the same. "Bye."

"Bye." Amelia cuffed Oz on the arm as he passed her.

Outside, Oz said, "There's a coffee shop across the street. Want a donut or something?"

"Yeah, why not."

Spike held Oz's arm as they crossed the road, and they found a table in the window before Oz went back to order. Relaxing even more, Spike found he no longer worried if he was being stared at. He was just a bloke out for a cup of coffee with a mate.

He felt normal.

He grinned and picked at the caramel donut Oz had just put in front of him, licking the sticky coating off his fingers one by one.

"Oh, my God!"

Willow leapt almost a foot off the ground at her friend's outburst. "Buffy! You scared me half to death. What is it?" She glanced around frantically.

Buffy grabbed her arm. "Don't look!"

"I don't even know what I'm not looking at." Willow shook her head with impatience.

"Don't look. Well I mean…look but don't make it obvious."

"Where am I supposed to be looking?"

"Coffee shop. Guy with the bleached hair in the window. Is he hot or what?"

Willow glanced over to see the object of Buffy's desire. "Uh…yeah…he looks cute."

"Cute? Are you insane? That's so not the right word to use. He's sexy. Teddy bears are cute."

"Whatever." Willow looked pointedly at her watch. "Come on, we're late already."

Reluctantly, Buffy began to walk, but cast a look over her shoulder and smiled. Whoever he was, he'd noticed her. He stared right at her and began to lick his fingers in the most lascivious way she'd ever seen. She walked on with a little more of a swing to her step, hoping he'd enjoy the view. Sunnydale was a small town. She knew that they'd see each other again, soon. They just had to.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Treading Water

Chapter Four

A month after his first venture into the big wide world – or rather the small town of Sunnydale – Spike finally felt like he was beginning to live again. With Rupert back from his business trip, his mother had someone else to fuss over allowing Spike to explore the house and grounds without being hindered by her. She still couldn't resist moving things, and so Spike learnt to use his cane more effectively to avoid falls or at least bruised shins.

He sat in his favourite place, a sheltered part of the far reaches of the grounds. Out of any breeze, the sun was amplified here, and he lay on the grass with eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his skin. Opening his eyes, he turned so that the sun fell directly on his face. It still hurt that the darkness he lived in didn't alter in the slightest in response to what he knew was bright light.

With a sigh, he sat up and reached out to the guitar he'd placed on the grass before he'd laid down. Oz was no longer his nurse, but he was now a firm friend. They spoke most days and met up several times per week. It helped that Spike's lack of employment meant that no matter what hours Oz's job demanded, they could get to meet up.

Playing his favourite songs always calmed Spike, and he found he was beginning to play songs with less depressing lyrics these days. His stomach turned over at the thought of where he was going that night. He'd finally conceded to Oz's constant nagging to go to a gig that the Dingoes were playing. It was in a club called The Bronze, just in Sunnydale, and Oz assured him that the place wasn't very big.

Coming to terms with his blindness he might be, but Spike still baulked at going to crowded places. The thought of being surrounded by masses of people all jostling him and bustling about everywhere was a frequent visitor to his dreams at night. He couldn't think of anything worse.

His fingers traced the surface of his watch and he got up. Time to go to get ready. He slung the guitar over his shoulder, flicked out his cane and walked confidently back to the house.

An hour later, he was sitting on a bench at the front of the house, waiting for the familiar sound of Oz's van to come up the gravel drive. With Oz's help and a mail order catalogue, Spike's wardrobe now consisted of clothes other than the sweatpants that his mother had bought him. So he was clad in black Levi 501s with his beloved boots that Oz had discovered in a bag in the bottom of the wardrobe, a black t-shirt and a royal blue shirt, left open, instead of a jacket. His cane was in his back pocket and his guitar sat at his feet. Oz had persuaded him to jam with them during the sound check. He stood and picked up his guitar as the van pulled up next to him.

"Hey, man. Glad you're finally making a gig."

Oz's feet scrunched on the gravel as he opened the door for Spike. "I'll put your guitar in the back."

"Okay."

Spike allowed Oz to guide him to the door, hating the fact that no matter how much time passed or coming to terms he did, he'd always have to rely on people to some extent for help. He'd never be able to drive again. He shook his head as he clicked the seatbelt in place. Now wasn't the time for such maudlin thoughts.

Playing with the guys during the sound check had been great. None of them had made Spike feel awkward and he could play guitar on a par with them, his lack of sight not hindering him at all. Now he leaned against a wall to the side of the stage listening to the gig, his head nodding in time to the beat of the bass guitar that Oz played.

"It's him!" Buffy leaned close to Willow's ear and yelled to make herself heard over the loud music.

"Who?"

"Him!" Buffy pinched Willow's arm. "The coffee shop guy."

"Ow!" Willow glared at Buffy. "You mean the guy you caught a glimpse of ages ago and have never shut up about since?"

Missing her friend's sarcastic tone completely, Buffy nodded. "Look. He's standing backstage."

Willow tore her eyes away from the dyed blue haired bassist she'd been ogling and glanced to the side. She had to hand it to Buffy, the guy was attractive.

"We'll have to hang out after the gig. We might be able to talk to them…er him." She wasn't ready to let Buffy know she was getting the hots for one of the band members.

Buffy nodded and spent the rest of the concert staring at the sidelines. She thought their eyes met a couple of times but because of the stage lights she wasn't sure that he could see her.

At the end of the gig, the bassist who'd been introduced by the lead singer as Oz, went up to the coffee shop guy, and she watched as they had one of those awkward man hugs, before disappearing out of sight with Oz's arm still over his shoulder.

She managed to persuade Willow to hang about until the club closed, but to her utter disappointment, they still ended up leaving without seeing either the coffee shop guy or the bassist.

Spike didn't think he would ever have had a great night out again, but he'd had such a good time at the Bronze that the fact he couldn't see didn't cast its usual pall. When Oz suggested he go each time the Dingoes played at the Bronze, he didn't hesitate to agree.

A couple of weeks later, when the guys in the band suggested he join Devon on stage to sing one of their songs to just Spike's acoustic guitar, he thought about it for about ten minutes before saying yes. He could lose himself in the music even more when he was playing.

On his big night, Spike's palms were sweating so hard that he slung the strap of his guitar over his shoulder, as he feared he'd drop it.

"Ready, man?" Oz's calm voice in his ear caused Spike to jump.

"Jesus!" He wiped his hand over his face. "I don't know if I can do this."

"Sure you can. You know the song backwards, and you were great at the sound check."

"But what if I fuck up?"

Oz shrugged. "It wouldn't be the end of the world. And it's late so most of the audience are wasted! They'll never notice."

Spike gave a snort of laugher and shook his head. "That's a great opinion of your fans you have there."

"You'd better get on before Devon starts to sing unaccompanied. He does that and we'll have no fans left drunk or not."

Chuckling, Spike stepped onto the stage. He'd measured out his strides to the stool he was going to sit on and made it without a hitch. He shifted his position until he was comfortable, and then began to play the intro. At first he faltered, his fingers feeling awkward. Spike found himself closing his eyes like he used to do before the accident to help him focus on the chords. As he relaxed, he began to enjoy it.

The three and a half minutes that the song lasted seemed to pass in a heartbeat to Spike, and he cradled his guitar on his knee as Devon thanked him and told the crowd his name. The cheers that rang out for him made his face flush, and he knew he was grinning like a loon but he couldn't help it. He stood up, inclined his head in acknowledgement and walked off stage. The rest of the band filed past him as they rejoined Devon for the final minutes of the set.

Familiar with the layout of the backstage area and confident that the guys were always careful about keeping things out of his way, Spike unerringly found the case for his guitar and had just sat at the narrow table, when he heard someone call out his name.

"Spike?"

He glanced up in the direction of the girl's voice.

"Yeah?"

"Um…God, I can't believe I'm doing this…look, do you mind if I sit down?"

"Sure."

He looked towards the stage, but he knew the set list, and he wasn't going to be rescued anytime soon. The scrape of the chair's legs as she moved it turned his attention back towards the girl.

"I'm not disturbing you, am I?"

"Uh…no…"

He smiled weakly. This is what he found difficult. Speaking to someone when he had no clue what they looked like.

The chair scraped again. "No, it was stupid…I mean why would you…I'll go."

Clearly hearing the embarrassment in her voice, Spike held his hand out. "Hey, no stay." He let his hand rest on the table. "I mean…you know my name, but I don't know yours." Spike gave a self-conscious laugh. "How lame did that sound?"

The girl chuckled softly. "You'll be saying what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this, next."

"So you are…?"

"Buffy…Buffy Summers."

Spike laughed out loud. He couldn't help it.

"What?"

"That's a porn star's name."

"And Spike's a dog's name."

They both collapsed in fits of laughter.

"Least I know your name now," said Buffy, as she struggled to control her mirth, regretting the tequila she'd fortified herself with. "I've been calling you coffee shop guy for the last few weeks."

"Why would you call me that?" Spike frowned.

"When we first saw each other. You were in the coffee shop and then our eyes met…"

_She doesn't know! _

"…and I have to say the way you looked at me, licking your fingers…well…" Buffy coughed, aware she was beginning to embarrass herself, and by the look of his face, Spike too.

His heart hammered in his chest.

_She thinks I was coming on to her._

"Um…yeah…donuts are sticky little buggers." He smiled lopsidedly.

"Sure they are," said Buffy, her tone dry.

Spike turned his face towards the stage again, recognising the second to last song.

"Um…So you came backstage…?" He returned his attention to her.

Buffy's face flushed crimson. "Because my friend says I'm turning into a crazy stalker woman and…" She covered her hands with her face. "Oh, God. Don't look at me! You obviously think I'm deranged, but I had a tequila for fortification and…"

Spike couldn't help but laugh, even though he knew she'd likely scamper off when she realised he was blind. "Maybe several tequilas?"

"Buffy!"

Spike started at the shriek, knocking his knee against the table leg, cursing low under his breath.

"Oh, my God! I can't believe you snuck back here!"

"Willow!" Buffy grinned at Spike. "This is my friend, Willow. She sounds like a tree."

"And you're really pissed." It made sense to Spike now. A girl had to be wasted not to notice he couldn't see a bloody thing.

"What?" Buffy's voice rose an octave. "I am so not mad! I'm having a great time!"

"Huh?" Spike leaned back in his seat. "I didn't… Oh! I meant you're wasted…er…drunk…shite…I mean, you're maybe a bit tipsy?"

"Buffy! We've got to go!"

Willow tugged frantically at her friend's arm.

"Why?" Buffy tried to shrug her off. "I'm talking with coffee sh…Spike!"

"Yeah," muttered Willow, "and you're so gonna regret it in the morning."

She glanced up at the stage, seeing the band taking a bow and beginning to walk to the side of the stage. No way was she going to meet Oz for the first time with a drunken Buffy in attendance.

"Come on!" She smiled at the bewildered looking Spike. "Nice meeting you." Before dragging a grumbling Buffy away.

"Hey, man. Who were they?"

"Um…couple of girls."

"I can see that!" Oz slapped Spike's shoulder. "I mean _who_ were they? The red-head's cute."

Oz's casual observation of the colour of one of the girl's hair was like a bucket of cold water being thrown over Spike. Such mundane things…things he'd never know without asking or being told. Not wanting to recount the tale of how Buffy had approached him because she thought he'd flirted with her, Spike just shrugged.

"Think they were just looking for the loo."

"Loo!" Devon began to snicker. "Sometimes you're so English!"

"'S not my fault you lot buggered the language up." Spike's smile returned though not at the same wattage he'd had with Buffy as the band's gentle banter lightened his grim thoughts.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Treading Water

Chapter Five

It wasn't until Spike lay alone in his bed hours later, that he allowed himself to think of Buffy Summers. It was as if his body had awakened to the fact that he was a healthy young man along with all the desires that goes with it.

With a groan, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His body ached with the need to be touched intimately. He'd been no angel in the past, that's for sure. He'd done his share of picking up one-night stands – probably more than his fair share after his dad had died. But he'd been young and like his mates, he'd thought he had plenty of time. Now he felt as if the time had run out.

The girl of his dreams had always been vibrant – matching his energy and sense of adventure. Their holidays would be spent scuba diving, white water rafting, skiing – now he couldn't find his way down a high street unaided. Even blurred or tunnel vision would have meant a little independence would be possible, but his new world had no chinks of light in it at all. A white cane could do nothing more than stop him tripping up over something.

"Oh, get a grip, Spike."

He rubbed his hands over his face and took a deep breath. He wouldn't allow himself to go down the self pity route; not again. With a sigh he stood up, walked to the small ensuite bathroom that had been added in what had been a large closet in the corner of his room and turned the shower on. Pulling off boxers that he only wore because of his mother's tendency to barge in the bedroom without knocking, he stepped under the water and leaned back against the tile.

His left hand found his erection and, feeling like a sodding teenager, he began to stroke himself. He tried to imagine what the girl looked like. Summers made him think of the rare, perfect sunny day that England's weather bestowed on its subjects every now and then. But Buffy…he grinned and increased his grip. Like he'd said to her – that was pure porn. He used it like porn, imagining her voluptuous body. Climax when reached, brought release, but also sadness. Would the sort of girl who fell for a blind man hold his interest? Would he end up being partnered only by someone who took pity on him? Would he end up alone?

Back in bed a few minutes later, he pushed thoughts of the girl away. His life was difficult enough without putting his emotions out there to be stomped on too. Though he was finding it incredibly hard to deal with his situation, Spike knew that if he was in that position again – even knowing the consequences – he'd do the same again.

That boy was alive because of him and that had to mean something, didn't it?

xoxoxoxoxox

A week later, the Dingoes were playing at the Bronze again. The other guitarist, Eddie, was sick, so Spike had been asked if he'd replace him for the night, and to Spike's surprise he found himself agreeing. Oz had dug out his old acoustic guitar so Spike didn't have to try to adapt to electric. At the sound check, the guys as usual made sure that nothing would be in Spike's way either backstage or on it.

When Oz pushed a shot glass of JD into his hand, just before they were due to go on, Spike knocked it back in one swallow and smiled as he thought of Buffy's Dutch courage in the form of tequila. The more he tried to keep her out of his thoughts, the more he failed. He wondered what she looked like. Was she the cute red head that Oz had mentioned?

On stage, he kept his eyes lowered, not wanting to stare ahead as he had in the coffee shop, knowing how that had been misconstrued. It felt good to be on stage with the band, and he'd even been coerced into singing the backing vocals like Eddie did. He wondered if Buffy Summers was in the crowd.

_Huh, so much for not thinking about her._

He shook his head to clear his thoughts and concentrated only on the music.

xoxoxoxoxox

Buffy hadn't been able to believe her luck when she'd seen coffee shop guy… _Spike – his name is Spike_... walk on stage with the band. Now she could safely ogle him from a distance without embarrassing herself. She could feel her neck heat up as she thought of what she'd done the previous week. A glance at Willow, who grinned at her, showed that her friend was thinking the same thing.

With a sigh she settled back in her seat and stared at Spike, hoping to catch his eye. Unfortunately, he seemed obsessed with looking at his boots and Buffy blushed again.

_Oh, God! What if he's afraid he'll see me in the audience? _

She reached out for her drink and took several deep gulps of it.

_Tequila! Why the hell did I drink so much?_

She drank more of her iced water, and shuddered at the memory.

"Hey, Buffy," Willow said, leaning close.

"What?"

"Do you think the bassist is looking at me?"

"I don't know…" Buffy watched him for a few moments and then glanced around them. "He is definitely checking you out…either that or he's gay and staring at the guy behind us."

Willow grinned and straightened her blouse. "Cool."

At the end of the concert, Buffy got up and headed for the exit.

"Hey, let's see if we can get backstage again," Willow said, grabbing her arm.

"You go, Will. I'm beat. I think I'll just go home."

Opening her mouth to speak, Willow shut it again when she saw her friend's face. In that instant, she realised that Buffy had more than a crush on the coffee shop guy. She _really_ liked him.

"What about getting home?"

"I'll get a cab. Don't worry about me. Just make sure you tell me all about it tomorrow."

"I will."

The girls hugged before going their separate ways.

xoxoxoxoxox

The band members were all sitting around the table enjoying a post-gig drink when one of the barmen approached.

"Hey, guys. There's a few people wanting to come to meet you, is that okay?"

Feeling Spike tense beside him, Oz rested a hand on his shoulder and asked quietly, "If you'd rather they didn't, just say so."

Grateful that Oz had given him an out, Spike nonetheless didn't take it. There was no way that he could begrudge the band their fans.

"No, that's fine. I'll just stay here."

In the end, all four of them stayed seated at the table as the half dozen or so fans came to say hi. When asked for his autograph, Spike politely declined saying that he was only filling in. He fiddled with the strap of his watch and kept his head down, letting their words wash over him, as he listened for one voice in particular.

He didn't hear it, but he heard the next best thing. The voice of her friend. Spike kicked himself mentally for not confiding in Oz about what Buffy Summers had said to him, because now Oz wouldn't ask the right questions of her friend. He wouldn't ask what the colour of her hair was. He wouldn't ask where she was tonight. He wouldn't …

"Hey! We nearly met last week," said Oz, when Willow nervously said hi and made some inane remark about the gig. "But you hustled your blonde friend away before we got the chance to speak."

_Blonde. _Spike allowed himself a small smile. Oz had focussed on the red-head. He hadn't liked the idea of trying to compete with Oz for the same girl.

"Uh…yeah…we were running late. I'm Willow."

"Like a tree," murmured Spike, smiling more broadly now.

"What?" Oz nudged him.

"Nothing." .

"Well, I'm glad you've got time tonight," Oz said, his focus returning to Willow.

"Me too."

They smiled stupidly at each other, before Oz spoke again.

"So…are you alone? Where's your friend tonight?"

Spike tilted his head a little and held his breath as he waited for the reply

"She was here earlier." Willow glanced at Spike. "She really likes the band, but she couldn't stay late tonight." She reached out and touched Spike's hand, snatching it back as he started. "Uh…I think she's a bit embarrassed about last week."

"Tell her…" Spike cleared his throat and kept his face down turned. "Um…tell her she shouldn't be embarrassed, okay? I enjoyed meeting her."

Spike could practically feel the grin on Oz's face and could certainly detect it in his voice.

"Yeah…he's been talking about her all week."

Snapping his head up, Spike said, "I bloody well did not!"

"Oops. Think I'm gonna be in trouble." Oz looked at Willow. "So how about I buy you a drink before the bar closes? You'll be doing me a favour, 'cause I think I'm going to be chewed out if I stay here much longer."

Willow chuckled. "I'd like that."

"I'll give you a ride home, Spike. If you don't want to wait for Oz," said Brad, the drummer.

"Thanks, that'd be great."

Spike hoped his voice sounded normal as totally unreasonable jealousy tore through him. Oz got to go for a drink with a cute girl, and he got to get taken home like a little kid.

Oz rested a hand on Spike's shoulder. "See you later, man."

Throat constricted with emotion, Spike just nodded. A few minutes later he sat in Brad's sports car, his hands on his knees as he resisted the urge to scream out in frustration. So far, everything seemed to emphasise what he couldn't do – not what he could.

He thanked Brad for the ride, flicked out his cane with unnecessary force and walked as quickly as he could to the front door. His impatient fingers fumbled on the surface of the door trying to find the keyhole.

"Fuck it!"

Finally finding it, he put the key in, turned it and slammed the door closed when he got inside. He got to his room and sat on the bed with his head in his hands. Suddenly he turned to the side and punched his pillow as hard as he could.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Until he was panting and out of breath.

"Oh, shite."

He took a deep breath and tried to calm down, as he got undressed and showered before slipping between the cool cotton sheets. All he could think about was how Oz would tell Willow and how she'd tell her friend that Spike was blind and he'd never get to even talk to her again, let alone live out any of his little fantasies about them dating. But fantasies were just that. Dreams that you never really expected to come true. Especially as all the fantasies he'd had with the voluptuous Buffy Summers involved being able to see.

xoxoxoxoxox

After a restless and nightmare-filled night, Spike made himself wait until ten o'clock before he cracked and called Oz.

"Not interrupting anything, am I?" Spike forced his voice to sound light.

Oz chuckled. "No, man. What do you think I am? We just talked over a couple of beers."

"And…?"

"And I'm seeing her tomorrow. Dinner and a movie."

A movie… Spike gritted his teeth. "That's great. I still haven't forgiven you about what you said, though."

"Um…yeah. Sorry about that."

"You really sound it." Spike couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah, well… I saw your face when Willow mentioned her friend, so don't tell me you don't like her."

Smile fading, Spike said, "Got enough to deal with – don't need to add women into the equation."

Spike let Oz talk about how nice Willow was, and he knew that the attraction was strong, because he'd never before heard Oz talk for so long on the telephone.

"So, I suppose you told her," Spike said.

"Told her what?"

"That I'm blind."

"No, I haven't. Why would I?"

Oz's tone was so incredulous that Spike immediately felt stupid for saying it.

"I just thought—"

"Thought what? That I'm getting to know a girl and I just come out with 'oh by the way my buddy can't see?' Jeez!"

Spike's fingers tightened around the handset as Oz continued.

"It's not all about you, Spike."

"I know…look, I'm sorry, it's just—"

"No, I'm sorry." Oz's voice returned to normal. "It was selfish just to go off like that. Leaving you to have to catch a ride with someone else."

"Shite, Oz. It's me who should be sorry. You're not my babysitter, it's just…"

"It's just you like her and it scares you."

"Yeah. It's really weird meeting new people 'cause I don't know what they look like. I just get this image of them in my head and it could be totally wrong."

"Were you just all about the looks, before?"

Spike let out a snort. "Pretty much. Mind you, as long as they had big tits and were accommodating, I could forgive them being a bit plain."

"Oh, please tell me that you're joking?"

"Course I am." Spike crossed his fingers. He had exaggerated, but not by much.

"It's a cliché, Spike, but it's what's underneath that's important."

"Yeah, yeah. So you saw her last week. What's she look like? 'Cause when I close my eyes, all I can see is skin flick posters featuring the luscious Buffy S."

Spike had to wait for a reply whilst Oz got his laughter under control.

"Damn, no wonder you're all bent out of shape if you're thinking about that all the time."

"Still not answering my question."

"Looks aren't important, and not meaning to be harsh, but they really aren't to you anymore—"

"Git."

"I know. But seriously…what's it matter if she's…er…a bit overweight?"

"You're taking the piss."

"Am I?" Oz laughed softly.

"You're not sodding helping!"

Spike couldn't help but laugh remembering the film he'd seen several years ago, _Shallow Hal, _where the main character was under a spell to see only the inner beauty and so fell in love with Gwyneth Paltrow in a fat suit.

"Sure I am…I've got you laughing, haven't I?"

"Good point. You're still a git, though."

"I can live with that."

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

"Oh Willow, this is hopeless! I'm never going to get to meet him again."

"Sure you will. It's only been a couple of weeks since you saw him last," Willow said, trying to placate her friend.

"Three – it's been three weeks – nearly a month. Are you sure that Oz won't sort of fix up a double date?" Buffy's eyes lit up with hope.

"I'm sorry, but I told you before, Oz just isn't comfortable doing that sort of thing. He's all like…if it's meant to be, it will happen."

"But when? You're all loved up and the guy I want thinks I'm a lush!"

"You're being a bit over dramatic, Buffy."

Buffy threw herself down on her bed in what had to be deemed a very dramatic manner. "No, I'm not!"

A raised eyebrow from Willow was all that it took to make Buffy sigh and sag with defeat. "Okay. Okay! I know I am, but I can't help it. Did Oz at least tell you why Spike hasn't been to a Dingoes show since then?"

"I've told you all that I know." Willow's voice began to have an edge to it. "Oz just said he had to deal with some personal stuff."

"He's married! Married with like five kids!"

"Buffy, shut up!"

Willow so rarely yelled that Buffy's eyes flew open, as did her mouth, but she fell silent.

"I'm sorry, but you're driving me crazy. I'm sure if Spike was married or in a relationship of any kind that Oz would have told me. Just wait until you see Spike at the club and then go and introduce yourself to him properly."

"Okay."

Eyes narrowing, Willow stared at Buffy. "Really?"

"Yes. Really. I mean…it's not like I'm going to sit outside his house and wait for him to come out or anything."

"Buffy…"

"I'm joking, Will! Honestly, what do you take me for?"

Grinning, Willow said, "Do you really want me to answer that? But don't do anything you might regret. You've already done that once!"

"Hey! You said I wasn't that bad!" Buffy sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

"I lied."

Laughing, Willow ran out of her bedroom and into the tiny living room of the apartment the girls shared.

"Rosenberg! I'll get you for that!"

Willow's reply was just to laugh even harder.

Buffy closed her eyes and thought of the last time she'd seen Spike. A soft smile formed on her lips as she ran a hand down over her stomach to the waistband of her pants.

"Buffy! Come on! We're going to be late!"

Moaning with frustration, Buffy reluctantly pushed the image of Spike's hand doing what her's had just been about to do out of her mind, climbed off the bed, grabbed her jacket and went to find Willow.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

"Rupert! Tell her she can't come!" Spike's voice held a note of desperation, as he once again ducked the hand that stroked his hair. "Mum! Gerrof me!"

"Oh, sweetie, I know you're upset. That's why you need your mother with you."

"Dru…darling," Rupert said softly. "He's a grown man. Leave him be."

"But, I can't jus—"

"Yes, you can." Rupert put his arms around his wife's thin shoulders and wondered, not for the first time, if she'd always been so difficult. He dropped a kiss on her neck, knowing that giving her attention always worked as a distraction. "He needs to go there alone, darling. And I need you with me. He'll be fine."

Spike would have mouthed 'thank you' to Rupert had he been able to catch his eye and know his mother wasn't looking at him, as it was he merely stood still, waiting to find out what would happen next.

"You need me?" Drusilla's voice adopted a tone that made Spike flush and dip his head. It was likely that once he'd gone, ole Rupert would be getting a bit of action.

"I'll always need you," Rupert said automatically, wondering if it were quite true.

The buzz of the doorbell interrupted them and Spike said tentatively, "Well…I'll be off then…"

Before his wife could say a word, Rupert said, "Okay. You have your phone with you?" Spike nodded. "If you need anything – just call."

"I will. Thanks."

"Sweetie! Be careful!" Dru slipped out of Rupert's arms and enveloped Spike in a hug that almost knocked him over.

"Jeez, Mum. 'M going the doctor's office, not the bloody North Pole."

"I know! But, William, I can't help worrying, can I?"

"You'd better go, Spike, before the cab goes away." Rupert took one of Dru's hands in his.

"I do wish you'd call him William," protested his mother as, with cane tapping lightly, Spike walked to the front door.

"He likes to be called Spike, darling."

"I know, but—"

Rupert did the only thing guaranteed to shut his wife up. He kissed her.

Shuddering at the parental smooching he could hear, Spike opened the front door with relief.

"Hi, Xander."

"Hey, Spike. How you doing?" Xander guided Spike to the rear seat of the cab.

"I'm okay, thanks."

The first time that they'd met, Spike had been heartened by the man's matter-of-fact reaction to his lack of sight and now, whenever he needed a cab, if Xander was working, Spike requested him.

"How's the hand?"

"Doing good." Spike stroked the thick bandages covering his left hand from wrist to fingertips. "'M hoping Dr. Fawley will give me the all clear."

He'd knocked into a small table that his mother had forgotten to put back in place after holding one of her many charity committee meetings. Unfortunately for Spike, as he fell, his left hand broke a wine glass and he'd sustained a deep wound to the flesh of his palm, running from the base of his thumb almost to his little finger. The fall had shaken his confidence badly, and naturally left handed, Spike felt awkward using the cane in his right and so had remained at home since the injury. Despite this a part of him admitted that his reluctance to go out with Oz to a Dingoes gig stemmed from his fear of meeting Buffy Summers again.

Xander parked directly outside the doctor's office and jogged round the cab to open the door for Spike.

"Want me to walk in with you?"

Spike nodded gratefully. "Yeah, thanks." His right hand reached out for Xander's elbow and they went inside.

"I'll be right outside when you're done, okay?"

"Thanks, Xan."

It wasn't long before the doctor had examined Spike's hand and declared the wound fully healed, and that good physical therapy for it would be for Spike to resume playing the guitar.

Xander spotted Spike as he pushed the front door to the doctor's office open and was at his side in an instant, helping him back to the cab.

"Home, then?" he asked as he slipped behind the steering wheel.

Unable to face going back to the house just yet, and feeling stir-crazy from his self-imposed imprisonment there, Spike shook his head. "I don't suppose you could drop me at the park and pick me up a bit later?"

"I've got a couple of jobs to do, but I could be back for you in about ninety minutes – or I could get one of the other guys to collect you?"

"No…I'll wait for you. Just need to be out of the house for a while."

Xander bit his tongue to keep from saying something inappropriate; he'd met Spike's mother a couple of times and could see why Spike needed time out. "If you're staying that long then you need snacks! Beer and snacks. Want me to get some?"

Spike chuckled. Xander always seemed to be eating. He wondered what the man really looked like. In his mind, he pictured Xander as bowling ball round, but knew he was taller than himself and the elbow he gripped wasn't lost in layers of fat.

Xander guided Spike to a shady spot and handed him the beers and snacks.

"See you later, Xan," said Spike, inclining the neck of the beer bottle towards him. "Thanks for getting these."

"You paid for them – not me. I'll be back in about ninety, okay? You get bored before then – just call Jesse in the office and he'll send someone."

"Okay."

After Xander left, Spike took a deep pull on the beer and wiped his lips with the back of his hand, before digging his cell phone out of his pocket and letting Rupert know what time he'd be back. He hadn't known whether to cringe or grin when it went straight to voicemail.

Munching on the assorted snacks and washing them down with the beer, Spike allowed his eyes to close and let his memories of the park flood into his mind. He'd often hung out here when he'd been staying with his mother and Rupert for the holidays. Like now, back then he'd sometimes needed to get away from the house. Somewhere on the trunk that he was leaning on were three letters he'd carved into the bark. S L F. Stiff Little Fingers. The band that he'd been going to see when he'd had the accident.

He wondered if he'd ever be able to listen to what had been his favourite band again. So far, each time he'd tried it provoked the images and pain of the crash, and since he visited those places in his dreams most nights, he didn't need to suffer them at other times too.

_Stop it!_

Spike chided himself. The daily struggle with self-pity had been harder of late. He knew it was his own fault – he should have gone out with Oz even if all he could do was sit backstage – but the fear of falling over in public kept him at home. He pulled out his phone again and pressed speed dial 2.

"Hey, Oz. So when are you playing next?"

"Spike! How's the hand? We're playing on Saturday. Going to come?"

"Yeah. Need to get out."

They chatted for a few minutes more before hanging up. Decision made, Spike felt more relaxed than he had since he'd injured his hand.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Buffy walked briskly through the park and tried not to stomp in temper like a two year old, but she wasn't sure she managed it completely.

"I'm so dumb!" she muttered under her breath.

She'd just left Willow. They had planned on spending the afternoon at the movies, only Buffy had pre-booked the tickets online and then forgotten to bring the credit card she'd paid with. So no tickets and since it was sold out, no chance of watching the movie either. In the end, feeling guilty at messing up their planned afternoon, Buffy had suggested that Willow call Oz to see if he was working or not. He wasn't and so now Buffy was walking home alone, and Willow was no doubt wrapped in her boyfriend's arms already.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted something. Glancing over, she tripped on the edge of the path and fell down with a thud and the whooshing of air being knocked out of her lungs.

"Ow! Crap!"

Buffy's eyes watered as she gasped for breath and pushed herself to her knees. She groaned when she noticed a rip across the knee of her jeans, but forgot the dismay at ruining her favourite pair when she got a good look at what she'd been staring at as she fell.

Spike.

Spike sitting beneath a tree.

Spike sitting beneath a tree – alone.

_Now's your chance! Go for it!_

Buffy staggered to her feet, brushed herself down, and dragged her fingers through her hair in a vain attempt to tidy it, silently praying that he wouldn't open his eyes until she was ready.

_Hello, Spike. I don't know if you remember me…I'm Buffy, we met when…_

"When I was so wasted I couldn't see straight! Can't remind him of that night," she muttered with a shudder.

_Hi…it's Spike, isn't it?_

"Lame!"

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

_Hi, Spike. Do you mind if I sit down?_

"That will do!"

Her eyes opened and she painted on what she hoped was her prettiest smile and glanced a little nervously towards the object of her desire… then slumped with defeat. As she watched, a brown haired man sat down on the grass next to Spike, whose eyes opened and face split into a grin that made Buffy's insides turn over.

There was no way that she had the nerve to go over to him when he had a friend with him, so she turned on her heels and hurried away, cursing for hesitating when she had the chance.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

"Hey, Spike. I'm back!" Xander flopped down on the grass beside him. "I didn't wake you up, did I?"

Spike opened his eyes and grinned lazily. "Nah, just thinking."

"If you say so."

"I was!"

"What were you thinking of then?"

All Spike knew about Buffy Summers was that she was blonde and had a voice that sent tingles up and down his spine…and other places. Since Oz had teasingly said she was overweight, the image that Spike had built up of her was like that of a Page Three girl in the English newspaper _The Sun_ – all huge tits and dimpled cheeks. And it was that image that Spike had been daydreaming about.

"Uh… wondering what songs the Dingoes will be playing on Saturday."

"Sure you were."

"So…are you finished for the day after you take me home?" Spike thought a change of subject was in order.

"Yeah…you're my last one."

"I reckon we'd better go then. Don't want to hold you up."

"Okay. I'll grab your trash."

"Thanks, mate."

Spike's fingers wrapped around the cane that he'd placed next to his thigh before he stood up and stretched.

"Anytime." Xander moved so that Spike could take hold of his arm and then strolled the hundred yards or so to where he'd parked the cab.

Once back at home, Spike paid the fare and thanked Xander for his help. A flick of Spike's wrist shook the cane to full length, and he carefully made his way to the front door. He went straight to his room and laid on his bed, wishing he had the nerve to ask Oz to find out Buffy's phone number. Before the accident, he wouldn't have hesitated for a second, but now…?

He just didn't have the courage to do it.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

Treading Water

Chapter Seven

"So," said Oz, as he placed a bottle of Bud on the table in front of Spike and sat down opposite him.

"Willow tells me that her friend, Buffy, is really keen to meet you."

He knew what Spike's answer was going to be before his friend even opened his mouth. The body language screamed no.

"Yeah, well, like I said. 'M not interested, okay?" Spike slid his finger slowly across the table's surface until he touched the base of the bottle. Wrapping them around it, he brought the bottle to his lips and took a long pull.

"You can't keep—"

"Leave it, Oz."

Oz shook his head sadly. At least he could tell Willow that he'd tried…again. Reluctant to press the issue of Spike's lack of social life on his first time at a Dingoes gig since his fall, Oz changed the subject.

"So how's the hand? Are you sure you don't want to play even just one song?"

The tension left Spike's body, but he shook his head. "Not sure the hand's up to it. Don't want to cock it up. Maybe next time, yeah?"

"No maybes, Spike. Definitely next time."

"You're still a bloody bully, Nursey."

"Hey! Don't call me that!"

Spike grinned broadly. "Why so shy? Kind of pathetic for a bloke to be ashamed of what he is."

"Huh!" Oz snorted. "That's a case of the pot calling the kettle black if ever I heard it!"

"What do you mean?" Spike scowled.

"You know what I mean.," Oz said seriously.

Squeezing his eyes shut and taking a deep breath, Spike said, "Give it a rest, mate. Please. I'm trying…I really am, but…"

Suddenly ashamed of badgering his friend, Oz said, "I know you are. I'm sorry. Let's just enjoy the gig, okay?"

"Okay."

Spike gave a ghost of a smile and downed half of his beer in several large swallows, wondering why Oz backing down made him feel more of a failure than normal.

That night even the music didn't transport him away from his reality like it usually did.

xoxoxoxoxox

Willow walked towards Buffy and could tell from her expression that her friend knew the answer was going to be no. She wished she could tell Buffy the truth about Spike, but she'd promised Oz not to tell and she would never break his confidence.

"He said no." Buffy's tone made the words a statement, not a question.

"I'm sorry, Buffy." Squeezing her friend's hand, Willow sat down next to her. "But it's nothing to do with you. Spike's just going through some tough personal stuff right now."

"I feel so dumb! I wasted the only chance I've had to talk to him by being so…wasted."

"Um…maybe you should just forget about him?"

"I can't, Will! I wish I could. It's crazy, but I just can't get my mind off him. It's like we were meant to be."

Willow nudged her shoulder against Buffy's. "Hey, I thought all that 'New Age Hippy crap' was what I was into?" She grinned.

"Yeah, well, maybe you were right. Maybe we do have soul mates out there. It's just, I think I've found mine only he doesn't realise I'm his."

"Listen to yourself, Buffy! You don't even know him."

"I know…move on. Forget him." She glumly ran her index finger round the rim of her glass of mineral water. "I say it every night, but it doesn't work."

xoxoxoxoxoxox

The band had just finished their set and came gambolling off stage with their usual high spirits. Spike shoved his cell phone back in the pocket of his jacket and stood up.

"Hey, man, is it cold back here? Why the jacket?" Devon said when he spotted Spike.

"Uh…" He hated that he didn't know where they were all standing. Slowly turning his head, he said, "Oz?"

"I'm here."

Spike focussed his attention on where the voice came from. "Look, I hope you don't mind, but I've called a cab. It'll be here in a few, so you won't need to drive me home."

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, just knackered, is all. And didn't want you to have to cut the night short 'cause of me."

_More like you didn't want to be around in case Willow comes backstage._ Oz had told Spike how Willow had been backstage after the last couple of gigs, but had assured him that she wouldn't be that night.

One of the barkeeps walked up to them. "Hey, Spike. There's a cab here for you. I told him to pull round to the back door."

"Cheers, Graham. Um…Oz, I'll call you in the week, okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

The band watched as Spike walked to the exit, his steps sure as he knew they kept it clear for him. When the door banged shut behind Spike, Devon laughed and said to Oz. "If a girl had said that to you, I would say you were being blown off."

The others joined in the laughter, but Oz glared at them. "Shut the hell up, Devon!" Then he stomped back on stage to start clearing the equipment.

"What's eating him?" Devon asked no one in particular.

"He's just worried about Spike," Jerry said. "Want a beer?"

"Yeah, and get Oz a shot of something. He needs to chill."

"Xander?" Spike called as he stepped outside.

"I'm here. Two steps forward and you'll be at the door."

A slight fumble to find the handle and then Spike slipped into the rear seat.

"Home?"

"Yeah, please."

Spike rested his head back and closed his eyes. _Will I ever get used to this?_

xoxoxoxoxoxox

Buffy had just reached her car when she saw Spike walk out and get in a cab. She was heading off alone, after Jerry had bumped into Willow at the bar. He'd told her that Spike had gone home, so Oz could give her a ride home if she wanted.

Watching the cab as it passed her, Buffy suddenly had an idea and before she gave herself the chance to think better of it, she leapt behind the wheel of her car and followed the vehicle out of the parking lot.

"Follow that cab!" She chuckled a little hysterically.

She soon found out why she'd never bumped into him in town despite Sunnydale's small size. He lived a few miles to the south of the city limits. Her heart began to pound as she remembered the size of the properties along that road.

Seeing the cab indicate to turn into a driveway, she pulled up at the side of the road some distance back and killed the lights.

"This is crazy," she muttered, but craned her neck as the cab didn't enter the gates.

As Xander waited for the electric gates to swing open, Spike opened the door. "It's okay, Xan. I feel like a bit of fresh air. I'll walk up."

"Are you sure? I could walk with, if you like?"

"Thanks, but I'll be fine. The driveway is about the only place mum can't leave stuff lying around." Spike hoped his voice didn't sound too bitter. "And don't sit here watching me 'til I get to the door."

"What, you a mind reader now?" Xan shifted grumpily in the seat.

"Yeah."

Spike climbed out the cab and stood until he heard Xander drive off before flicking out his cane and pushing the remote for the gates. The driveway had a low wall down the left side of it and Spike reached out with his cane until he found it and then walked slowly up the drive. He wasn't slow because he was worried about falling or losing his way, he was slow because he really didn't want to go back to sit alone in the empty house. His mother and Rupert were at a charity function and wouldn't be back for at least another couple of hours.

Buffy frowned as the cab drove away without having gone inside the boundary of the property, scuppering her plans to drive past slowly to have a look at the house. Instead she reached for the handle and got out the car.

Tiptoeing along like a secret agent on a mission, Buffy kept to the edge of the road and peered cautiously round the wall that marked the entrance. The gates were of wrought iron and so barely impeded the view of her target. In the still night air, a low tap, tap, tap, carried to her. It took her a moment to work out where it was coming from.

With each stride he took, Spike swung a white cane until it struck the stone of a retaining wall. His steps were so sure, for a moment she didn't believe what her eyes were telling her.

She squeezed them shut and shook her head, then opened them and stared at the departing figure once more. The image remained the same. It could mean only one thing…

Spike was blind!

"Oh, my God!" Buffy clamped her hands over her mouth as the words escaped before she could stop them.

On the drive, Spike halted and turned around, tilting his head to the side.

"Who's there?" He called out, then added in an undertone, "I can't believe I just bloody said that."

Even the muttered words were loud enough for Buffy to hear, and she failed to muffle a snort of laughter at his disgruntlement.

"I know there's someone's there. I can hear you sodding laughing. Xan? Is that you?"

Spike took two strides towards the gate before he stopped when no reply was forthcoming. He put his hand in his pocket and wrapped his fingers around his cell. What if it was burglars?

"Speak, you git!"

The old Spike would have been down the drive in a flash, fists at the ready. He'd enjoyed a good rumble every now and then. Now, he pressed the number nine on the keypad of his phone, without bringing it out of his pocket, and tried to keep his breathing even.

Buffy took a step backwards, appalled at the situation she'd gotten herself into. She froze when gravel crunched beneath her feet.

Spike stiffened at the noise. _Shit! Just my bloody luck. Gonna get offed by some random burglar 'cause ole Rupert's worth a packet. _At that precise moment, he realised that above all else he wanted to live.

"Uh…I'm gonna call the cops. They'll be here in minutes." He cringed inwardly at the tremor his voice held.

_Run! Run! _

Her brain screamed its instructions to her legs but they remained rooted to the spot. She'd scared him. She'd met him once and had been so drunk she hadn't even noticed his disability and now through her selfish action of following him, she'd made him afraid.

"Don't do that!" Buffy faked a southern accent.

Spike's eyebrows shot to his hairline. "Give me one good reason." He pressed the first of the two ones needed to complete the call.

"My car broke down and I…my cell is dead…and I saw the lights…and—"

Taking an unsteady step towards the voice, Spike said, "Buffy? Is that you?"

"What? No!" _Oh, triple crap! _"My name's…" She dropped the fake accent. "Oh, what's the use? Yes…it's me. Buffy Summers – she of the so wasted she couldn't see straig…" Her voice trailed off as she realised what she was about to say.

"Right." Spike's tone was harsh, as he gripped his cane hard enough to make his knuckles white. "So how come you're standing there, trying to pretend to be someone else?"

"I…uh…"

"I'll fill in the gaps, shall I? I know you've wanted Oz to set it up for us to go out, so instead of taking no for an answer, you – what? Follow me home?"

"Er…"

"Then you spy on me and see what I am." He waved the cane for emphasis. "And you try to skedaddle, only I hear you and so to avoid me knowing who you are –since you're so not wanting to meet me anymore – you do the worst accent I've ever heard and think I'm dumb enough to fall for it!"

"It's not like—"

"Newsflash, Buffy, my eyes are fucked, not my ears!"

She staggered backwards at the venom in his voice.

"Spike…please…"

He pulled the cell out of his pocket and pressed the final one. "Hello? Police, please. I'm calling from Druert House, on Sunnydale Mount. There's someone acting suspiciously at the boundary of the property. Can you check it out, please? Thank you."

"You've got about five minutes to get out of here."

"Look, I didn't disguise my voice because—"

"I don't sodding care! Just leave me the hell alone."

Spike whirled round, swung his cane out to find the edge of the driveway and walked away as quickly as he could.

Sirens blared in the distance, coming ever closer. Buffy shifted from foot to foot, wanting to go to him, to explain, but having no way of getting past the gates.

"Oh, fuck!"

She spun round and ran back to her car, kicking gravel up from the side of the road as she did. Wrenching the door open, she almost snapped the key in the ignition in her haste to turn the thing on. The engine roared into life and she sped away from the kerb, just as blue flashing lights appeared in the distance.

Spike's rush to the house halted as he heard Buffy's car speed away. He bit the inside of his lip to keep the moan of anguish inside. Another of his dreams was gone. She couldn't wait to get away from him.

_That's not quite true. _The little voice in his head reminded him. _You never listened to her side of the story._

"Nothing to fucking listen to!"

By the time he'd arrived at the house, all he wanted to do was get pissed and go to sleep.

xoxoxoxoxoxox

Buffy drew up outside the apartment she shared with Willow and leaned forward, banging her forehead on the steering wheel a couple of times as she moaned with embarrassment and despair.

"Why did I follow him? Stupid Buffy!"

A rap at the side window caused her to jump a foot out of the seat, bashing her knee on the steering column.

Willow laughed. "Didn't mean to scare you!"

"You didn't." Buffy pushed open the door as Willow stepped back. "Well, you did, but…" She covered her face with her hands.

"What's wrong?" Willow put an arm around her friend's shoulder.

"Oh, Will, I've done something so dumb and now I've ruined everything even before there really was anything to ruin."

"Not sure I follow what you mean. Come inside and tell me all about it."

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Treading Water

Chapter Eight

Willow stared at Buffy, unsure of what to say after hearing what had occurred.

"It's hopeless, isn't it?" Buffy glanced up, eyes swollen with tears. "There's no way that I can put this right. I should never have followed him!"

_It wasn't the following of him that ruined everything, but the fact you tried to hide who you were._

She would never tell her friend that though. Buffy hadn't seemed to realise that the fact Spike had recognised her voice after only one meeting meant he'd obviously been thinking of her a lot. Oz had told her that Spike was only beginning to come to terms with his blindness, but had refused to be drawn on whether Spike liked Buffy or not.

"It's not so bad." Willow hoped her voice sounded sincere. "I think you need to get some sleep."

Buffy heaved herself up from the couch and wrapped her arms around her body. "Thanks for listening, Will. God, what a mess."

Before Willow could reply, she headed for the bathroom. "I'm going to take a shower."

"Okay." A peek at her watch told Willow that it was far too late to call Oz to tell him of the night's events. Yawning, she walked to her bedroom and got into bed. Teeth brushing and shower would have to wait. No way could she stay awake until Buffy had finished.

xoxoxoxoxoxox

Spike's mother might still lock away the liquor, but Rupert had shared a whisky with him a couple of weeks ago and had left the bottle in the drawer to Spike's bedside table. His fingers fumbled as he tried to find the handle, and it took all of his willpower not to just pick the thing up and throw it across the room.

Finally finding the handle, he wrenched the drawer open and sighed with relief when he took hold of the bottle. He didn't bother with a glass, just unscrewed the cap and took a slug. And then another. The liquor seared its way down his throat and warmed the ice that had formed in his belly when he realised that Buffy hadn't wanted him to know it was her.

_Oh, my God!_

He could hear the horror in the tone of her voice. She'd followed him home, which meant she was interested in him, but to then try to pretend to be someone else…? It had to be that the blindness was what scared her away. It didn't matter how many times Oz told him that people could see – and wasn't that just the right word – past his blindness, and like him for who he was, Spike knew that there was a lot of difference between having friends and having a girlfriend.

"This is too fucking hard."

He couldn't stifle the sob that came out when he spoke. More whisky didn't even take the edge off what he was feeling, but it did make him very unsteady on his legs. Spike managed to stagger to the bathroom but, head spinning, he got disoriented. The return trip to the bed proved impossible and Spike just folded to the floor and slept there.

xoxoxoxoxoxox

The phone ringing shrilly next to his ear woke Oz up with a start, and he grabbed at the offending item, dropped it, cursed, picked it up and pressed the button.

"'Lo?"

"Hey, Oz."

He propped his head up with his hand, a smile on his lips. "Hey, babe. Missing me already? You should have stayed over."

"What? No…I mean, yes I am missing you, but that's not why I called. It's about Spike and Buffy."

"Aw…c'mon. I told you I'm not going to set him up on a date. He's not ready. It's got to be in his own time."

"I don't think he'll ever be ready to go on a date with Buffy after what happened last night."

Oz sat up straight. "What do you mean? What did she do?"

"What do you mean 'what did _she_ do?'" Willow bristled on her friend's behalf.

"Will. It's…" he squinted at the clock, "six-thirty on a Sunday morning. I_ know_ Spike was heading straight home, so it's got to have been Buffy doing something to make you call with a crisis this early." Most men's tone would be sounding peeved, but Oz, being Oz, just sounded calm and logical.

"I'm sorry, it's just…"

Willow filled him in on the whole episode. As she was talking, he put the phone on speaker and got dressed.

"I know she's your best friend, Willow, but Spike really didn't need that. He's sensitive enough about how he thinks people perceive him already."

"She didn't mean to offend him."

"Doesn't mean she didn't." This time there was an edge to Oz's voice.

"Well, if you'd let me tell her about Spike's blindness, then it would never have happened would it?"

Oz grabbed the phone and turned it off speaker. "So you're saying that Spike is right? Buffy would never have looked at him if she knew he was blind?"

"No! That's not what I meant at all! I meant that she wouldn't have been so surprised, and wouldn't have panicked about it."

"Why'd she panic, if it wasn't because she wished she wasn't there?"

"Don't yell at me, Oz." Willow all but growled. "I'm not saying this right. When she first saw Spike, she thought he was looking at her through the window of that coffee shop in town. Now she feels stupid and thinks that he probably never liked her at all, and there she was talking to him when she was wasted and then following him home…"

Deciding that to say he thought Buffy _was_ stupid was a sure way to end up single, Oz opted for a safer course of action. "I'm sorry. I'm just a bit protective of Spike, I guess.

"So what are we going to do?"

"Do?" Oz shook his head. "Hasn't enough been done already?"

"I mean to fix it. What do we do to fix it?"

"We don't do anything. Please don't let her try to contact him. I'll go over to see him later, and I'll call you, okay?"

"Okay. She's really upset, Oz. She likes him and she hates that she upset him."

"She doesn't even know him, Will."

"But she wants to."

"I'm not sure Spike will want it and if he doesn't she's got to respect that." Oz's tone brooked no argument.

"Okay, but promise you'll tell him she's sorry?"

"I will. Call you later."

He hung up before Willow had a chance to respond.

"Dammit! This is all he needs!"

Oz glared at the clock as if it was its fault that the time was still too early to go to see Spike right away.

xoxoxoxoxoxox

Spike woke with a start when he heard his mother shriek.

"William! Are you hurt? Did you fall again? Oh, I knew we shouldn't have stayed out later than you!"

"Shite." Spike rolled onto his back. "Lower the sodding volume." He slapped feebly at her hands as they touched him. "I'm alright. Leave me be."

His mother huffed and he heard her take several steps away before she said, "You're drunk!"

He heard her long fingernails chink against the whisky bottle.

"No, Mum, I'm not." He laughed humourlessly. "I _was _pissed. Now I'm hung over, and I would appreciate it if you got the hell out of my room!" His voice rose in volume and by the end of the sentence he was yelling.

"I'm going to get your father! I can't talk to you when you're like this."

The door slammed shut as she fled the room.

"He's my step-dad and you can't talk to me sensibly ever!"

Groaning loudly, Spike sat up and wondered if it was possible to die of a hangover. He was just contemplating trying to get up and find the bed, when there was a tap on the door.

"Spike? May I come in?"

"Yeah."

"Good Lord, you look ill!"

Spike winced. "Not so loud, okay?"

"Do you need a hand to get up?"

"No." Spike tried and failed to stand. Scowling furiously, he said, "Well, don't just bloody stand there…"

Chuckling, Rupert helped Spike to his feet and guided him to the bed. "Want to talk about why you got so drunk?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Rupert sighed. "Don't push everyone away."

Shifting on the bed so that he has his back partially to Rupert, Spike muttered, "I'm not."

"No…of course you're not," Rupert said sadly. He placed a hand on Spike's shoulder for a moment before walking to the door. "I take it you don't want any breakfast?"

"God, no!"

"Well…I'll leave you to your hangover, then."

As the door closed, Spike flopped down on the bed and rubbed his hands over his face. He knew he should go and apologise to Rupert, probably even his mother too, but he just couldn't summon the energy to do it.

"Oh, bollocks."

He turned over on his side and hoped the pounding in his head wouldn't prevent him from getting back to sleep.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Oz growled at the phone in frustration. He'd just tried to speak with Spike, but had gotten through to his mother who had politely told him that Spike was feeling ill and couldn't come to the phone. There was no point in turning up at the property. You had to buzz up to the house to be allowed in, so the answer would no doubt be the same.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Buffy couldn't stand it a moment longer. She had to get out of the apartment. Willow had announced that she was going to stay home that day, but Buffy knew she'd been planning on meeting up with Oz, and didn't want to be the one to ruin that relationship too.

"I need some air." She grabbed her jacket and marched out of the door. "I'm going to the park."

"Shall I come wi—"

"Thanks, Will, but no, I need to be alone right now."

Willow winced as Buffy slammed the door behind her.

"Poor Buffy."

She shook her head sadly and reached for the phone, hoping that she wouldn't end up arguing with Oz again.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

It was just past noon, and Spike now felt a little more human. He'd managed to eat enough toast to take some painkillers without fear of throwing up, and now he sat in the garden letting the sun warm his skin. The secluded spot in the grounds that Spike favoured was a natural sun trap, always several degrees warmer than in the more exposed parts of the gardens.

He pulled the t-shirt off over his head and bunched it up to use as a pillow as he sprawled out on the grass. Rupert was right. He knew it. But he'd always bottled things up, and couldn't change now. Part of him wanted to call Oz and talk about last night, but a larger part shuddered at how pathetic he'd seem.

The episode with Buffy had brought to the surface something that he hadn't considered before – just how vulnerable a blind man was. Not to getting upset by stupid, thoughtless girls, but to be in physical danger. What if there had been burglars last night? He had no way of defending himself. Muggers could have a field day with him – certain in the knowledge that he wouldn't be able to identify them.

Running a hand over his stomach, he grimaced as he could no longer detect the well defined abs he'd had before the accident. He wasn't fat by any means, but he'd lost the tone that his previously active life had given him. Would Rupert buy him some gym equipment? He resolved to ask him when he went back up to the house.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

After walking round the park for an hour or so, Buffy's head was clearer. She walked home, but instead of going inside she got into her car and headed for Sunnydale Mount. Her courage nearly failed when she pulled up outside the gates and saw that she had to press an intercom to ask permission to come in.

She gritted her teeth as she reached up, let out a hiss of frustration that she couldn't reach without getting out of the car, and then stared at the button for what seemed like an age before she used her index finger to push it.

"Hello?" A man's voice rattled tinnily through the intercom.

"Er…hello…I've…um…is Spike in?" She rolled her eyes and shook her head. _Why do my brains abandon me when I'm anywhere near Spike?_

"He is."

"Uh…can I see him, please?"

"Is he expecting you?"

"No…no, he's not. He doesn't even really know me, but we met once and—"

"Were you with him last night?" The voice cut her off.

"What? No!"

To her surprise, the voice chuckled and she heard the buzz of the gates beginning to open.

"I'll meet you at the front door. Just follow the drive."

"O-okay."

Buffy climbed in the car and drove slowly to the large house, trying not to goggle at the sheer size of it. A tall man with glasses stood on the gravel near the door, and she pulled up close to him.

"Hello, I'm Rupert Giles," he said, holding out his hand. "I'm Spike's stepfather."

"Buffy Summers. Pleased to meet you." She shook the offered hand.

A moment's awkward silence followed before Rupert spoke again. "So how do you know, Spike? Don't get me wrong, but he has never mentioned you."

"We've only met once…er well, sort of twice…" Buffy blushed to the roots of her hair.

"Was one of the times last night?" Rupert regarded Buffy sternly, and she had a flashback to her schooldays when her old librarian would stare disapprovingly at her if she got too loud.

She nodded. "I'm sorry, Mr. Giles, but there was a misunderstanding and I think I upset him. I just wanted to apologise to him and then I will leave."

"Ah," said Rupert. "That explains it." He smiled at her. "If you walk over towards the large tree over there, then veer right, you'll find him. It's his favourite spot, but I think that's mostly because it's the furthest point from the house."

"Thank you."

As she turned to walk away, Rupert called out. "He'll be prickly. Don't judge him on what he's like today. Once you get to know him, you can see him for the person he really is. The poor boy has been through a lot."

Buffy glanced back and smiled weakly. "Thank you for letting me in, Mr. Giles."

He inclined his head towards her and then strolled into the house. Buffy walked slowly towards the part of the garden where Spike was. Now she was actually here, she wondered if this was yet another disastrous idea. No point in backing down now. With her heart pounding in her chest, she increased her pace.

Rupert watched the girl from the window until she disappeared from sight. Had he been right to let her in? She was obviously the reason for Spike's binge. But like Oz, he worried about the secluded life that Spike was living, so maybe it was time to jar him out of it.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Spike selected skip on his iPod as the intro to Stiff Little Finger's_ Tin Soldier_ began to play. He still couldn't bear to listen to it. He let out a sigh of relief when the Ramones' _Pet Cemetery_ took its place.

_Really must get the Fingers' tracks deleted. _

He felt the slight vibration in the ground as someone approached. The footsteps were too light to be Rupert's.

_All I bloody need. Another visit from Mum._

She'd checked up on him twice already, and though his heart pricked with guilt after yelling at her the second time, he really had hoped it would do the trick.

_What part of 'I want to be alone' did she not understand?_

He squeezed his eyes shut to feign sleep as the steps approached. They stopped and he waited, deliberately keeping his breathing even.

_Go away…just please go away._

Buffy stopped a few feet away from Spike's supine body. Her mouth, already dry with nerves, suddenly became like the Sahara, as the sight of his bare torso almost literally took her breath away.

He was faking sleep. She smiled. People always got the breathing wrong. For a while she just simply enjoyed the view, knowing it was probably the only time she'd get to enjoy it.

Just as he began to fidget she spoke, loud enough for him to hear her over the music playing in his ears.

"Hello, Spike."

He sat bolt upright and tugged the ear buds free with one sharp yank. His features, so peaceful as he'd lain there, now contorted with anger.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

Treading Water

Chapter Nine

The urge to flee from such venom only just got overpowered by the anger his words generated in her.

"Just who the hell do you think you are, talking to me like that?"

"Who let you in? What lie did you tell them so they'd let you?"

Spike's left hand skittered across the grass, trying to find the cane, but in his surprise he'd shifted to the side and it was now out of his reach.

Buffy hesitated for a moment before stepping closer so she could reach down to get the cane for him.

"It's here," she said, waggling it a little, then rolled her eyes at her stupidity and brushed the tips of his fingers with it.

Snatching it out of her hand, Spike all but growled at her. "I don't want your sodding help! I would have found it." He leapt to his feet, flicked out the cane and took a step forward, freezing at the crunch of his iPod beneath his boot. "Oh, bollocks. Look what you've made me do!"

"Hey! I didn't make you do it. It's your fault that you got up in a snit and was going to storm off."

"A snit? A snit? I'm not in a snit!"

"No, sure you're not," Buffy muttered loud enough for him to hear.

"You're fucking stalking me. That'd be enough to put anybody in a snit."

"Ha! So you admit it!"

"I'm English, so no I'm not admitting to being in a bloody snit…a strop maybe." Spike took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face. "Why are you here? What do you want from me?" His voice now sounded weary, not angry.

"I…I just wanted to apologise for my behaviour last night, but after listening to you just now, I figure we're even. So I'll go."

Squeezing his eyes shut in that stupid gesture he just couldn't get out of the habit of doing, Spike listened to her walk away. The awful feeling of loneliness that had plagued him since his friends slowly stopped calling suddenly overwhelmed him.

"Stay."

He said it quiet enough so that if she didn't reply he could convince himself that she simply hadn't heard. She paused, but made him wait agonising seconds before she spoke.

"Okay."

She turned back to see Spike prodding at the grass with his cane.

"Uh…what are you doing?"

Running a hand over his bare chest, he said, "There should be a t-shirt around here somewhere."

Pink stained his cheeks and Buffy could understand how frustrating it must be for him, but in light of his earlier reaction, she didn't pick it up.

"If you take a step to the right your cane will reach it."

"Thanks." The blush deepened and his lips set in a thin line as he felt for the neck. His fingers sought out the label, so he'd know which was the back and which the front.

"Don't put it on, on my account," Buffy said with a grin.

"'M cold." His face now scarlet, he put the cane between his knees and pulled the t-shirt over his head, smoothing it down once he got his arms through the sleeves.

Buffy could think of a hundred ways of how she could warm him up, but wisely stayed silent.

Just when she thought they would stand there all day, Spike spoke.

"I suppose the iPod's dead?"

Casting a glance at the remains, Buffy nodded, then hastily blurted, "As a dodo. Sorry."

"Yeah, well, there were a lot of songs on it that I couldn't bear …uh…didn't like any more. Suppose it saves me from deleting them." The corners of his mouth twitched upwards.

"Bit of a dramatic way to do it though."

He chuckled and Buffy grinned with delight.

Another uncomfortable silence followed. Again, Spike's voice broke it.

"Would…would you like a drink?"

"That would be great." Buffy winced at her too bright voice.

"On second thought..." Spike dipped his head. "I really don't think you need to meet my mum. Unless…was it her who let you in?" He turned his face towards her, and she could have wept at the knowledge that those clear blue eyes could see nothing.

"No, it was your step-father."

"That figures."

"Would you rather I didn't stay? I just wanted to apologise for scaring you—"

The eyes might not be able to see, but they could show emotion all right. They darkened as he stiffened.

"You didn't bloody scare me."

Realising her mistake, Buffy frantically tried to back-pedal. "I didn't mean scare…I meant…it was late and—"

"Buffy!"

"What?"

"Can we just start over?"

"Oh, yes! God, yes! Then I won't need to be embarrassed about being so drunk that first night."

"Why were you embarrassed? You weren't so bad."

It was good to see Spike's slight smile. "Oh please! I just thank the stars that Willow extracted me before I could do anything even more embarrassing."

"What? Like follow someone home?"

"Hey, you said we'd start over."

Spike's smile broadened. "So I did." He held his hand out. "I'm Spike, pleased to meet you."

Giggling, Buffy shook it. "Pleased to meet you too. I'm Buffy."

"Where's the house in relation to us?"

Buffy glanced over her shoulder. "It's behind me, so to your right as you are now."

"Okay." Spike pointed to the left. "There should be a bench over there. Shall we go sit on it?"

"I'd like that."

As they made their way to the seat, Spike prayed that he wouldn't trip.

"We need to go a little to the right," Buffy said, hoping he wouldn't mind the guidance, but unsure what else she could do if they were to find the seat.

His clenched jaw told her that yet another raw nerve had been touched. She knew that she had to tread carefully not to upset him again.

Spike relaxed as his cane struck the bench's legs. Taking another step, he reached out for the arm, before he turned around and lowered himself onto it. He retracted the cane and was just wondering what to do with it when Buffy sat next to him, her knee brushing his. He snapped his legs together like a virgin on a first date and put his hands in his lap, glad that the t-shirt was long enough to cover his groin.

That brief casual contact had his body reminding him that it had needs. The fact that he'd used fantasies of the very woman beside him for his pleasure over the past few weeks didn't help his cause.

Startled by his reaction, Buffy widened the gap between them.

Wondering if it was possible to feel any more awkward, Spike said, "So, Buffy Summers, what do you do?"

She chuckled.

"What?" He turned towards her. "What's funny?"

"Just when you say it like that, it sounds…well it sounds…"

_I am not going to say it. I am not going to say it…_ "Porny?" Spike faced front quickly.

"Yeah! I never thought of it like that until you said it at the Bronze. Dunno whether it's your accent, but you make it sound…filthy."

"Filthy Gorgeous," Spike mumbled, as his dick gave him another little reminder that it was up to something.

Forgetting the apparent no contact rule, Buffy rested a hand on his arm as she leaned closer. "Do you mean the song by the Scissor Sisters?"

"Yeah."

"Wow." Her hand left his arm. "I would never have thought you'd like them."

"Hey! I never said I did. Just know the song, that's all. Was all over my favourite radio station back home."

"Do you miss it?" Buffy said, adding, "England, I mean."

He nodded, swallowing hard at the memories England evoked. His father. Graduating university. His mates. The bands he saw in concert. The crash. The pain. The weeks of hope. The weeks of despair. The knowledge that he was now as powerless as a toddler over the decisions in his life… The list was endless.

Buffy stared at him in dismay as she watched the emotions pass over his face. Such an innocuous statement, but it obviously brought up lots of memories.

She'd just opened her mouth to speak when he said, "I miss some things…other things – like say the weather – not so much."

"Is it really as bad as that?"

"It can be." Spike smiled. _I've got Buffy – the porn star – Summers next to me and I'm talking about the weather!_

He could almost see his old self shaking his head at such a thing. But the weather was safe. The weather kept him from thinking of what he ached to do. He clenched his hands into fists to suppress the urge to find out just how large her breasts really were.

"Huh? What? Sorry, didn't catch that." Heat rose at the base of his neck, knowing where his attention had been.

"I was just saying I'm a California girl through and through. I hate the cold."

"English weather can be lovely. Just bit unpredictable, is all." Spike couldn't allow too negative an outlook on his homeland.

"If I go, I'll remember to take a raincoat."

"You never told me what you do?" Spike wished fervently that he could see the woman whose light floral perfume he knew he would never forget.

"Oh…nothing very interesting. I wish I could tell you I was a rocket scientist or something, but my friend Willow and I own a small shop."

"Really? What do you sell?"

Her hand touched his knee, sending sparks through him. He tensed and bit back a moan. _At this rate I'll come in my pants like a sodding kid!_

Mistaking his reaction, Buffy sighed and pulled her hand away. "Promise me that you won't laugh?"

"Okay…I promise."

"We sell comics."

Spike's lip twitched.

"Hey! It's a growth business. New graphic novels and vintage copies of comics like Spiderman. We're doing all right."

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"It's an art form! Not everyone wants to read the classics!"

Spike closed his eyes, as bitterness began to rise within him yet again.

"I studied the classics." His voice so low she could barely hear it and so full of despair that tears formed in Buffy's eyes. "God, what I wouldn't give to be able to read one again, even though by the time I got my degree, I was sick to death of the bloody things."

"Oh, Spike." She covered his hand with hers. "I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what it's like."

He turned his face towards her. "Wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy."

They sat in silence for quite a while.

"Spike?"

"Hmm?"

"The house is amazing. How long have you lived here? Your accent is so strong still." Buffy cringed at her awkward change of subject, but she just didn't know what to say about his blindness without running the risk of upsetting him again,

"Uh…Mum moved here with Rupert years ago. I just spent summer holidays here, well I did, until my dad died, then I stopped coming. Hadn't been here for years until now."

She squeezed the hand she was still holding. "I'm glad you came to stay."

Snatching his hand away, Spike stood up. "Had nowhere else to go, did I?" He walked a few steps before halting. "Why me?"

Frowning as she got to her feet, Buffy said, "Who knows why things like this happen, Spike."

"No. I meant why are you interested in me?"

He asked the question she'd been dreading.

"Why shouldn't I be?" she said glibly. "I saw you and thought I'd like to get to know you."

"But you didn't know, did you? Not until last night?"

Buffy walked around him so that she could look into his face when she spoke. "I thought we weren't going to mention last night again. But no, I didn't."

Spike shook his head. "So you're here 'cause you felt sorry for me."

Sighing dramatically, Buffy stepped closer. "No. I came because I couldn't go another day without doing this." She put her hands on his shoulders, stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips against his.

Whatever reaction she'd been hoping for, it wasn't being shoved away so hard that she almost fell.

"Jeez, Spike!"

"'M sorry." Spike backed up. "I – I can't do this…it's…" Shaking his head, he rubbed both hands over his face.

Buffy looked at him. Her anger at being pushed was tempered by the fear so clearly shown by Spike. From the little glimpses of his true character that he'd shown, she guessed he'd been confident and probably a bit cocky – you'd have to be to bleach your hair like that – before the injury, and now here he was unsure of everything. To make matters worse, she'd forced herself on him when she didn't even know if he liked her at all.

"No. It's me who should be saying sorry. That was stupid. You don't even know me." She glanced over her shoulder to where she could see her car on the driveway. "I'd better go."

"I'd like to."

She scowled. "Like me to go?"

"No." He reached out with his left hand. "I'd like to get to know you."

With a grin, she put her hand in his. "Really?"

"Well, I figure if a bird goes to all this trouble to meet me, least I can do is get to know her a bit."

His smile was so heartbreakingly uncertain that Buffy's breath hitched. Feeling like someone in a cheesy movie, she raised their linked hands to her cheek and then let go of his. He tensed, but relaxed again as she put her hand on his cheek, stroking his skin with her thumb.

"Uh… some people have been known to say my nose is too pert to be natural. But I promise you, I've had no surgery."

Spike laughed. "That right?" He tentatively moved his hand to her nose. "No surgeon would leave that bump in it."

"Bump? There is no bump!"

They grinned, both a touch embarrassed by what they were doing. She closed her eyes as his fingers ghosted over them, letting her hand fall away from his face.

"What colour are your eyes? I know you're blonde and …er…short."

"Hey! Petite, okay?"

"Okay."

"My eyes are hazel – bit greenish in a certain light."

His hand went to her hair, snagging on a couple of tangles.

"Ouch!"

"Sorry." He pulled his hand back as if scalded.

"It's okay." Grabbing the retreating hand with hers, she placed it on her waist.

"You're not fat." The words were out before he realised it.

"No I am not! Why would you think I was overweight? Oh my God, do I sound heavy? I know I can be clumsy, but—"

Spike began to laugh. Really laugh. Through his wheezes he managed to gasp, "I'll kill Oz."

"Oz said I'm fat? If I see him first you won't be able to kill him, because I will have!"

He put his right hand on the other side of her waist. "Don't. He was just teasing me, that's all. I asked him what you looked like, and he said you were a bit plump."

"I still think it's earned him a slap!"

"He was just proving a point that looks don't matter, especially for me now."

Buffy took a sharp intake of breath. "That's harsh."

"It's true though, isn't it?" Spike smiled lopsidedly. "Before…I was…well, let's say I was a bit shallow."

"So what was your ideal girl like?"

Having felt her slim waist, he knew the real Buffy wasn't physically like his fantasy porn star Buffy, but still couldn't resist it.

Grinning, he said, "A big pair of tits usually did the trick."

He'd expected a yell of indignation – hell, maybe even that slap she'd said she was going to give Oz – but Buffy Summers surprised him yet again. She snatched his hands from her waist and planted them firmly on her breasts.

"Sorry to disappoint." To his relief, her voice was laced with humour.

Gently moving his hands over them, he said, "Nah…any more than a handful's a waste."

He got the slap for that.


	10. Chapter 10

Treading Water

Chapter Ten

"What on earth are you doing?"

Spike jerked, pulled his hands from Buffy's breasts and thrust them in his jeans pockets. Buffy spun around, coming face to face with a tall woman, whose lip was curled into a sneer.

"And you?" His mother turned her attention to glared at Buffy. "What sort of girl are you that would let a boy do that in public?"

"It's not public, it's in our garden," Spike muttered, dipping his head.

"Oh, my God! She's a prostitute!"

"I am not a pr—"

"I know how much you used to chase after the girls, don't think I don't. A different one every night. So you thought you'd buy one for the afternoon. Did you have one last night too? Is that why you were so drunk this morning?"

"Hey! Buffy stepped between the two. "Where do you get off, calling me a prostitute?"

Dru's cold blue eyes settled on the low cut blouse, "Well, you dress like one."

"Christ! Mum!" Spike backed up, wishing he could run away. "Buffy, look—"

"Don't try to make me shut up, Spike." She pointed at Drusilla. "There is nothing wrong with the way I dress,"

"Hmm, not if trailer-trash is the look you're going for. William can't see you for what you are, but I certainly can."

"Trailer-tr—" Words failed her. She glanced over to Spike who was standing with his head down. "Spike?" I'm not having this mad cow accuse me of being a whore

! He shook his head. "

"She's my mother…"

Buffy glared at Dru who had puffed up at Spike's apparent defence of her.

"Then I pity you." She regretted the words as soon as they were spoken as Spike stiffened, his chin rising defiantly.

"I don't need your bloody pity. Huh, I knew that was why you came."

"I think it's time you left the property," Dru said, with a self-satisfied smirk.

"Spike, I didn't mean I pitied you because you're blind." She touched his arm, but he shrugged it off. "I meant…" She hesitated. Would it really help her cause to say she pitied him a mother like that?

"I know quite well what you meant, and I will not be insulted in my own home," Dru said.

"But it's okay for you to insult me?" Buffy just couldn't help blurting it out.

"William?"

Buffy glanced over her shoulder looking for someone else before she realised his mother was talking to Spike.

"Uh…I think it'd be best if you left now, Buffy."

"But…"

"You heard him." Dru's face flushed with triumph.

"Spike?" Buffy again put her hand on his arm, but their earlier connection was lost.

He kept his head down, and muttered. "Please…"

God, she wanted to shake him and punch his mother in her smug face, but having taken a deep calming breath, Buffy did neither.

"Oz has my number."

As she strode away, she heard Drusilla begin to harass Spike about his friendship with Oz. She glanced over her shoulder, willing him to say something, but he just appeared to slump and if he said anything, it was too quiet for her to hear.

"Come on, Spike. Stick up for Oz, if not for me."

She tossed her head, causing her hair to bounce from side to side, and grabbed the car's door handle.

"Damn it."

Jabbing the keys in the ignition as if she were trying to kill it rather than turn it, she slammed the door shut and sped off down the drive, throwing gravel up in her wake. Rupert rushed out to the front steps.

"Buffy?"

With a frown, he scanned the garden for Spike. If he'd upset the poor girl when she'd come to apologise and was quite obviously smitten, he'd give him a piece of his mind. Rupert spotted Spike and Drusilla and sighed. He should have known. His wife's behaviour around Spike since the accident had been both smothering and domineering. He'd thought that Spike was finally beginning to get back the spark losing his sight had extinguished. Mother and son had never had an easy relationship, and he couldn't blame Spike for staying in England without visiting for so long.

"Drusilla! Darla is on the telephone for you. Something about a charity auction?" Giles's voice carried across the lawn.

Dru immediately hurried towards the house. By the time she discovered his lie, he would have been able to speak with her son.

Rupert watched Spike carefully as he walked to him. He looked lost. His cane was on the bench several feet to his right and his body language gave away the fact that he was completely disorientated.

"You come to say your piece too?" Spike had been hoping for a snarky tone, but it ended up closer to a choked up croak.

"Well, yes I am."

"Don't bother! I was stupid to think I could be with her anyway. Mum's right. I'm better off at home."

"Has the world stopped turning?" said Rupert, amused.

"What?"

"You've just said your mother was right. Something must have happened. I didn't think I'd ever see the day that you'd say that."

Spike drew himself up. "It's because I can't bloody see, that I'm saying it!"

"Grow up, Spike!"

"What? Gr…? I'm fucking blind, Rupert. What's growing up got to do with it?"

"You're blind. I know. It's terrible. I can't begin to understand what you are going through, but enough is enough! This self-pity has got to stop. Right now."

Spike's face crumpled and he turned away from his stepfather. "I try…"

"Oh, I know, son. I know."

Rupert's arms wrapped round Spike's shoulders, and he leaned briefly into the grasp before pulling free, reminded of how Rupert had always been the one to comfort him if he got homesick during his summer visits.

"What did she say?" Rupert asked.

"She accused Buffy of being a prostitute. Then said how I'd shagged half of England before I came here, and—"

Rupert burst out laughing.

"Hey! Buffy's no trollop. It's not funny."

"It's because she is so obviously not a lady of ill repute that I find it so amusing. She couldn't look more wholesome if she tried. Whatever gave Dru that idea?"

Spike couldn't help but smile. "Uh…well…I sort of had my hands on her tits, but it wasn't like…I mean, she grabbed my hands and…"

He gave up.

"You want to keep hold of that girl, Spike. She might just be a match for you."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that she's like you. She knows what she wants and she sets out to get it."

Spike shook his head. "I'm not that person anymore, Rupert."

"I think you could be…with someone like her beside you, perhaps?"

"Well, that's it then, isn't it? She won't want anything to do with me after today."

Giving Spike a nudge, Rupert said, "Then perhaps the time has come for you to chase after her? Are you going to come back to the house?"

Before Spike could reply, Dru appeared at the front of the house. "Rupert! Are you going senile? The phone was in place when I got to it, and Darla said she'd never called when I rang her!"

"Why do you do it, Rupert?" Spike said.

"Do what?"

"Stay with her?"

"Simple. I love her. I know she has her faults." Spike snorted. "But at the end of the day, she needs to be looked after, and I need to be the one to do it. Are you coming inside?"

"Uh…I think I'll stay out here for a bit. Can you pass me my cane, and point me in the direction of the hollow?"

Rupert did both, and as he went to meet his wife, Spike wandered back to where his iPod had bit the dust.

xoxoxoxox

Buffy drove around town until her anger died down, leaving just the bitter taste of regret. She shouldn't have spoken that way about his mother, but he shouldn't have let the woman say those things either. She shook her head as she recalled telling Willow that Spike was her soulmate. The guy would be taking out an injunction against her at this rate.

_No Buffys allowed within a hundred yards_.

She decided to go play gooseberry to Willow and Oz, needing to talk to someone about yet another disastrous meeting. As she pulled up outside Oz's building, she noticed Willow's face peering out of the window. How did the red-headredhead always know when she arrived?

"Witch," Buffy muttered, as she locked up the car and jogged up the stairs to the apartment.

Willow opened the door and beckoned Buffy inside, holding a finger to her lips to indicate that her friend should be quiet. Seeing that Oz was talking to someone on his cell, Buffy nodded with understanding and made her way to one of the mismatched armchairs.

"Hey! She just walked in. Why don't you say hello?"

Oz thrust his cell phone into her hand and stepped back looking at her expectantly.

"Who is it?"

"Put the phone to your ear and find out."

Frowning, Buffy did just that, and her eyes grew wide as she heard the voice on the other end.

"Oz? Oz? Don't! I can't bloody talk to her…not after…"

"Spike!" Buffy threw the phone back to Oz, who caught it deftly and threw it straight back.

"Talk to him! You're both as bad as each other. Maybe talking on the phone will be safer."

Grinning, Oz guided Willow into the bedroom, to give Buffy some privacy.

She stared at the handset, then with a sigh, sat down and put the phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Uh… Hi."

"Um…"

"So…"

"God, I thought being wasted at the Bronze was embarrassing, but this…"

"Yeah. Awkward, huh?"

"And then some."

"Look, Buffy…I'm really sorry about earlier…about my mum—"

"It's not your mom that got me angry…well, not just her. It's just—"

"I should have said something to her about speaking to you like that. I did later, but I shouldn't have let her say it."

"No you shouldn't."

"But if you look at it from her point of view—"

"What?" Buffy sat up ramrod straight.

"No…I didn't mean it like that…it's just…well, I was pawing at you."

"Yeah, I guess you were."

They both chuckled.

"I liked it," Spike said, quickly.

"Me too."

"We shou—"

"Please don't say 'do it again sometime'."

Spike laughed out loud. "I wasn't…though I wouldn't say no if the opportunity arose."

"So, what were you going to say?" Buffy's was voice flirty and light.

"I was going to say…uh…no…you're going to think it's daft."

"Come on, Spike. After what I've been doing lately, I think it's only fair that you do something silly too."

"Well, I was going to say…would you…do you think that maybe we could talk on the phone for a bit…you know…so we can get to know each other? Could email too…my computer…uh…I can send emails, yeah?"

Buffy suddenly knew what he was getting at by not suggesting they meet up, but communicate like that. On the phone, it was the same whether he was blind or not. Same with email. You couldn't see the person you were emailing.

"I'd like that."

She chuckled at the sigh of relief she heard.

"Great. Um…but you're at Oz's so I reckon I'd better let you go now, but can I have your number? Or email address?"

"The email one is easy, it's just buffy dot summers at k-mail dot com."

"Okay…I'll email you my number."

"Great."

"Um…you don't mind doing this? I know it's pretty lame—"

"It's fine, Spike. It'll be fun. Just…"

"Just what?" She could hear the tension in his voice.

"Just don't let it be too long before we get to 'do it again sometime', deal?"

Laughing, Spike said, "Deal."

"Cool. Email me then, Spike. Email me good!"

She hung up before he stopped laughing.

"It's okay, guys, you can come out now."

Willow and Oz came back hand in hand with their faces flushed.

"And that is my cue to go home."

"You don't have to," said Willow.

"I know…but I want to." Buffy walked up to Oz and gave him a hug. "Thanks for that."

In typical Oz fashion, he just shrugged.

"And thanks, Will."

After a hug with her best friend, Buffy left the apartment, swearing she heard the bedsprings squeak as soon as she closed the door.

xoxoxoxox

Spike thumbed the keypad lock on his cell and put it on the bedside table. His heart was pounding fit to burst. She'd agreed. He never thought she'd go for it.

"Christ, I'm going to morph into Tom Hanks!" He smiled as he thought of Meg Ryan in that schmoopy film _You've Got Mail._

So used to where everything was in his room, it would have been difficult for one who didn't know to actually realise Spike was blind. He walked over to the desk where his computer sat, a state of the art laptop with all the gadgets it needed to make Spike able to use it with ease. He preferred to use the keypad rather than the speech recognition, as he tended to talk too fast for the software to get it right first time. Luckily, he'd learned to touch-type at university and so hadn't found it too difficult to adjust. Mistakes could easily be corrected.

Feeing more than a bit daft, he began to type. His first draft baldly gave the number of his cell. The second draft wasn't much better. By the sixth attempt, it wasn't too bad, and the seventh got sent before he could change his mind. Determined not to sit waiting for a reply after taking well over hour to send the bloody thing, Spike got out his guitar and began to strum the opening chords of his favourite Dingoes song.

TBy the time thehe woman's voice announceding the arrival of an email head him jumpeding six inches in the air. He put the guitar down and pressed the keys needed to open the email.

It was from Buffy. He smiled and mentally replaced the synthesised voice with her own. He replied and the conversation continued. They were awkward at first, the questions and answers a little stilted, but once they began to relax, they both realised that this was the perfect way to put their past misunderstandings behind them.

Later, as Spike showered and used his new knowledge of the smell of her perfume, the firm roundness of her breasts, and the softness of her lips, to bring himself to completion, he knew that 'sometime' wasn't going to be too far in the future.


	11. Chapter 11

Treading Water

Chapter Eleven

Spike grinned as his computer spoke to indicate the arrival of a message. It would be Buffy. She always emailed as soon as she closed the store. Over the past week or so, they'd chatted via email and finally seemed to have gotten past the awkward stage, though they hadn't spoken on the telephone again. He got up from the chair and touched the keys; soon the slightly robotic voice was reading out her message.

_Hey, you. Well I'm all cashed up and just about to head home. Will's going over to Oz's, so I guess I'll grab a pizza._

Chuckling, as she'd confessed that she was no cook, Spike reached for his cell phone instead of the keypad. His heart rate picked up and he berated himself for dithering. Finally, his index finger picked out the number he'd learned by heart the day he'd been given it.

It rang twice before Buffy answered.

"Hello?"

"What're your favourite toppings, then?"

"Spike!"

"Yeah…I just got your email and I…so I thought…" Spike cursed inwardly at getting tongue-tied.

"Cheese!"

"What?"

"You asked what my favourite topping was, and it's cheese."

"Just cheese?"

"Preferably the ones with four different types on them."

"Shit, are we really talking about cheese?"

Buffy's laughter tinkled in his ear. "Don't complain. You started it, remember?"

"Yeah…yeah, I did." He shook his head and muttered, "What a wanker."

"Hey, I heard that!"

"Sorry."

"Don't be." Buffy fiddled with the mouse as she sat at the counter in the shop, wondering if she was going to overstep the boundaries of their fledgling friendship with what she was about to suggest.

"I don't know if—"

"Buffy, do you want—"

They laughed, then Buffy, losing her nerve, said, "You go first."

Spike took a deep breath. "I wondered if you'd like some company when you eat all that cheese."

"That'd be great." _Great minds think alike!_

"Uh…could you come here?" As silence stretched out a little too long on the other end, Spike added, "Rupert and Mum are out."

"Sure." She glanced down at her clothes and shuddered. _Could I be wearing anything less flattering!_ Her face flushed crimson when she realised what she'd just thought. _But I still want to look nice for him, even if he can't see it. _"I need to go home and grab a quick shower, then I'll be over. What kind of pizza do you want?"

"It's okay. I'll order it for when you can get here."

"Okay…I'll be there as soon as I can…maybe an hour?"

"Great. Uh…the code for the gate is three, one, four, one, seven."

"See you soon!" Buffy disconnected before he had the chance to reply.

"Right, Spike. Just get a grip. It's only pizza." He almost bolted to his own bathroom to shower and change before she arrived.

Thirty minutes later he was pacing up and down the entrance hall waiting for her arrival, his stomach in so many knots he doubted he'd be able to eat a thing.

Another forty minutes after that and just as he began to worry the pizza would arrive before her, he opened the door to Buffy.

"Hey," he said stupidly, beckoning her in with a wave of his hand.

"Hey, yourself. Thanks for asking me over."

"Thanks for coming."

"Do you think you should maybe close the door?" Buffy's voice was teasing.

Spike shoved it closed as soon as she spoke. "Uh…do you mind if we go to my room rather than the living room…it's like an apartment…or at least a hotel suite. I mean…what I'm saying is it's not just my bedroom, okay?"

_I wouldn't mind if it was. _Buffy smiled."That's fine."

"It's this way." He strode confidently down the corridor to his room. Pushing open the door, he stepped back for her to enter first. "The armchair nearest the computer is the comfiest."

He waited until he heard the creak of the leather chair before he spoke.

"What would you like to drink? I've got beer, Coke and bottles of water." He stood waiting for her reply, only his fingers tapping at his legs gave away his nervousness.

"I'm driving so it'd better be a Coke, please."

"Right. Coke it is." He unerringly found the small refrigerator that Rupert had installed for him and reached inside, taking a beer from the right hand side of the top shelf and the soda from the left. "Um…do you want a glass?"

"No, straight out of the can is fine, thanks."

Spike's face coloured as he held out the can for her to take, hating that he had to just hope it would be within reach. He almost dropped it as her warm fingers touched his. Popping the lid off his beer, Spike sat in the chair opposite Buffy and took a long pull, unaware of the lust etched on Buffy's face as she watched his lips surround the neck of the bottle.

The awkward silence was broken by the intercom sounding for the pizza delivery asking to be admitted through the gates. Leaping up, Spike said, "I'll go get it."

Buffy was going to say that she'd go to the door, but she stopped before she said a word. She knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't thank her for it. A few minutes later, Spike returned with the pizza and some napkins.

"I thought we could share." He put the box on the low table between the chairs.

"Just please tell me you haven't got pineapple on your half."

Spike grinned and Buffy melted like the cheese on the pizza.

"I haven't. Just mushrooms."

"Eeew! I hate them! Food of the devil!"

"Well at least that means you won't nick any of mine."

Sinking to the carpet, he sat cross-legged and opened the lid. His smile faded a little. "Um…unless you want me to feel where the mushrooms are, I reckon you'd best let me know."

Buffy sat on the floor across from him and chuckled. "If your fingers stray near my slices I'll slap you!" Satisfied she'd restored his smile, she added, "I mean it."

"Is this bit mine?" Spike pointed in the box.

"Hang on." The cardboard rustled as Buffy spun the box around. "Now go for it."

Fumbling slightly, he picked up a triangle of pizza and bit deep into it. "Mmm…is good."

By the end of his second slice, Buffy could hold back no more. She scooted round the table until her knees brushed his. He dipped his head, but smiled broadly.

"You've got a bit of sauce…"

Her fingers brushed his lips. Without thinking, he opened his mouth and sucked at her index finger.

"Oh, God," Buffy murmured as her entire body heated up.

He whipped his head away. "Sorry."

The next things that brushed his mouth were Buffy's lips.

"Please…" He didn't know whether he wanted her to stop, continue kissing, or just rip off his clothes and shag him senseless.

She shifted closer to him, pushing him back until he rested against the seat of the chair. Then he took charge. Closing his eyes, he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her to his chest, as his lips mashed against hers.

He moaned when their tongues met, the sensation lighting a fire in his groin. Running his hands up her back, along the nape of her neck, and chuckling at the shivers he felt go through her, they finally stilled as he cupped her face.

"This is too fast." He could hardly believe he'd said it.

"I know. But I know something else too." She covered his hands with her own. "You really can't expect me to behave if you go around licking your fingers, let alone mine."

"Wha—"

Her kiss cut off his words, and the next time their lips parted both were breathless.

"God, I wish I could see you." Spike stiffened at the words he so carelessly blurted out.

She knew sympathy would have him reject her once and for all, so she covered his eyes with her fingers. "So feel me instead. I'm yours, Spike. All yours."

Tentatively at first, he began to map her body with his hands. They both laughed as they traced the line of her breasts, but then it was Buffy's turn to moan when the fingers quested lower down. She shifted a little to enable Spike's hand to slip between her thighs. Rubbing firmly over the seam of her jeans, he chuckled wickedly as she gasped and wriggled.

"Ah…no, you're not going anywhere." His right hand held her in place as his left continued to stimulate her.

Soft kisses dropped along her neck sent Buffy over the edge, and her body shuddered as her climax washed over her. Spike opened his eyes to let the fact his vision didn't alter keep him from making a mess in his jeans.

"Pizza's getting cold," he said, once he'd got his desires back under control.

"Pizz—" Buffy slapped his arm. "Screw the pizza. Or better st—" She shrieked and clamped her hands over her mouth. "Shit, I am a slut!"

"Not complaining, but no you're not."

"But—"

"Relax. I've always liked pushy women."

"Hey! I am so not pushy."

"Really?" Spike's eyebrows rose.

"Well…I'm more like…impatient. When I see something I like, I always want it right now."

"I'm like that…or I was."

"Show me."

"Okay. Close your eyes. No peeking."

"They're closed."

"Don't lie. I'll know if you're lying."

He could barely keep from laughing out loud as he reached for the now cold slice of pizza to find a mushroom. Leaning towards her, he kissed her at the precise moment he dropped the slice of mushroom down her top.

Buffy leapt up. "What was that?"

"What was what?" Spike grinned unashamedly.

"Eeew! Eeew! You devil!"

She retrieved the errant fungi and tossed it at Spike, hitting him in the forehead.

"Bloody hell!"

"I'm sorr—"

"Don't complete that sentence, Summers."

"Or what?"

Spike quite deliberately licked his middle finger.

"Oh, hell. I have a fetish." She threw her arms in the air. "I have a finger–sucky kink!"

They collapsed into fits of laugher. Spike reached out for Buffy and pulled her close, but she resisted.

"It's comfier up here, I think."

She might have hinted at the use of the bed, but once on it, there was no doubt that Spike was in charge. Maybe it was because he didn't need his eyes to make love to a woman, or maybe it was just his lust was too strong to be denied, but for the first time since the crash Spike felt like himself.

Keeping his eyes closed, his hands opened the buttons of her blouse with ease.

"Well, now, Miss Summers, what's this? No bra."

He kissed each breast in turn and wondered why he'd always favoured big ones when these were just the right size.

"Perfect," he whispered as he kissed his way down her flat stomach to the waistband of her pants.

"Hey. Not yet."

Spike froze. "Yeah…shouldn't—"

"Relax. I just meant that I need to do this first." She slipped her fingers beneath the bottom of his t-shirt and gave it a tug.

"Oh, right." He raised his arms so she could pull it over his head, then smoothed his hair back down, before bending to kiss her again.

"Open your eyes," Buffy murmured in his ear, her breath hot on his flesh.

"But…"

"They're beautiful."

He shook his head, but still did as bidden.

"So blue…"

To take the attention away from his eyes, Spike let his left hand seek out her waistband once more.

"Is this okay, now?" Although he grinned, his words were serious and the meaning clear – once the clothes were off, there would be no going back.

"More than, but you first."

Feeling a little embarrassed, Spike wriggled out of his jeans, revealing a penchant for going commando that had Buffy giggling like mad.

"And you told me off for having no bra."

"Yeah…well…shut up, woman."

"Make me."

"I'll make you regret saying that."

He ran his hands along her arms then pinned her wrists to the mattress. His knee pushed her legs apart and he lay over her, pressing his erection into her still clothed crotch. Both moaned with pleasure as he rocked to and fro.

"Jeez…Spike…please…"

Already over sensitive from his earlier attentions, Buffy tried to wrench her arms free so she could rip off her pants. Laughing, he held her fast.

"Take it easy…we've got plenty of time. Just relax."

"Relax? You're driving me crazy." She bucked up with her hips and Spike's plan nearly came undone, as he bit back a moan at the increased friction.

"I'll let you go if you promise you'll lie still."

"I will."

"You said that too quickly." Spike nipped at her ear lobe sending her into another bout of wriggles.

"No…no…I mean it. I promise."

"Okay," Spike said doubtfully.

He eased his grip on her wrists and ran his hands down her sides, provoking chuckles and a brave, but unsuccessful attempt to remain completely still. Lack of sight didn't make removing her pants and underwear any more difficult, as his well practiced fingers slipped them off, then slipped inside her.

She stiffened, chest rising and falling as her breathing rate increased. His touch left her in no doubt that the bitchy remark made by his mother wasn't too far from the truth. She was in the hands of an expert. When his tongue replaced his fingers, she almost screamed with the pleasure it created.

As another climax began to build, Buffy began to beg. "Please…I need you inside…"

His erection just touched her opening, when he paused. "Oh, shite! Protection…I haven't…"

"My pants. Back pocket," Buffy gasped out the words.

The world came crashing back down on Spike. He had absolutely no idea where he'd thrown them.

He knelt up. "This is no good…I'm—"

"It is good! It's the very model of goodness." Buffy's hand grabbed his bicep preventing him from backing away any further.

"But I can't…" He pressed his palm to his face. "I can't even find your bloody pants. I'm useless."

"Shut up!"

He started at Buffy's yell.

"My pants are on the floor next to the bed, level with your ankles. Now get the condom and get back to doing what you were doing."

"Ker—ist."

Spike's cock, that had been wilting twitched happily at her command. Pocket found, condom packet pulled open, he was about to smooth it over his flesh when Buffy's hands took over the job. Biting the inside of his lip hard enough to draw blood, he couldn't help but thrust up into her touch as she sheathed him.

Flopping back down, Buffy made the bed bounce and announced, "So where were we?"

"You're bloody amazing." Spike grinned, as he nudged his cock between her wide spread legs.

It was her turn to thrust upwards, and as she did, he slipped inside her. The second he was fully enclosed they both paused for a moment, letting the incredible sensation of that first joining calm a little before they continued.

Soon there was no spare breath left for words as they worked together, bringing each other gasping and panting to almost simultaneous climaxes. Spent, with his muscles trembling with fatigue, Spike rolled off her and lay by Buffy's side.

"God, I'm so sodding unfit."

Buffy began to laugh.

"What?" He turned onto his side, propping his head up on his hand.

"That has got to be the most unromantic thing anyone has ever said to me as I lie exhausted after the most awesome sex."

"Awesome, huh?" A thrill ran through Spike at her words.

"But very unromantic." She twisted so she could kiss the end of his nose.

"But true. I'm sorry I couldn't make it last longer."

"Longer?" Buffy's eyes grew wide. "If you'd kept me on the brink for much longer, I swear I would have killed you."

"Well, give me a few minutes and I'll see if you really mean that."

"Minutes, huh?" She turned over so she could shift backwards into his arms.

"Hmm," Spike mumbled sleepily as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her so her back was tight against his chest. "Just a few…"

Spike had enough time to appreciate just how good Buffy felt in his arms before he drifted off to the deepest, untroubled sleep he'd had since the accident.

"Typical guy." Buffy chuckled softly.

There was now way that she could sleep after that. She'd never felt so connected to someone in so short a time. Her face flushed as she realised how she'd given out on what could only barely be described as a first date.

"You better call me in the morning, mister."

She lay in his arms, until a glance at her wristwatch had her heart lurch in her chest. Almost midnight. His parents would be back soon and she had no intention of meeting his mother again – especially like this.

"Spike…Spike? I have to go." She eased out of his arms and smiled as he pouted in his sleep.

Quietly putting her clothes on, Buffy debated whether to wake him, but he looked so peaceful she just couldn't bring herself to. She kissed him gently on his forehead, picked up her shoes and walked to the door.

She would have left him a note, but obviously couldn't. Closing the door carefully to make as little noise as possible, Buffy didn't put her shoes on until she opened the front door. Once in the car, she wasted no time in getting down the driveway and out onto the public road. A glance in her rear view mirror showed how close it had been. A large car pulled into the entrance and once the gates opened, swept up the drive.

"Phew. 'Cause that would have been awkward."

Buffy laughed and pushed her foot down on the gas, wishing she could have spent the night in his arms, but longing for her own bed too.


	12. Chapter 12

Treading Water

Chapter twelve

"Oh my God, Rupert! Look at the lights!"

Drusilla was out of the car almost before it came to a stop. Her long purple evening gown swirled out behind her as she bolted for the front door.

"It's unlocked! Something's wrong."

"Darling, the gate was locked, there's nothing to…" Dru disappeared from sight into the house. "Worry about."

With a sigh, Rupert locked the car and walked briskly after her.

"William! Darling, are you alright?" As usual she didn't bother to knock. "William!"

"Wha—?"

Spike startled awake, turned toward the voice and fell out of bed with a thump.

"Ow! Bloody hell."

"Are you hurt?"

"Am I…?" He struggled to organise his thoughts. Wasn't he just with…_holy crap! Buffy!_ "Mum, how many more times do I have to tell you to bloody ask to come in?" He grabbed at the sheet which he was tangled up in and pulled it higher up his body.

"But the lights were on, so I thought—"

"You know how she worries, Spike," Giles said as he walked into the room and put his arm around his wife's waist. "But, darling, you can see he's fine and so why don't we go for that nightcap we were talking about?"

"Please call him by his given name, Rupert." She glanced at the remnants of the pizza. "Who was here with you?"

_Count to ten, Spike. Don't freak out. Is Buffy hiding under the sodding bed? Got to get them out of here._ "Uh…Oz dropped round. Sorry he left the lights on."

His mother huffed. "Well tell him not to drop food on the carpet next time." She stooped to pick up a slice of mushroom.

"That was probably me, Mum. Given that I can't actually sodding see if I drop anything!" He felt a shit for saying it, but it was guaranteed to get rid of her.

"Spike…" Rupert's tone held a warning.

"I know. I know. I'm sorry. It's just being woken up like that, yeah? Not good for the nerves."

"Go pour me a whiskey, darling." Giles glanced at Dru and smiled.

"Goodnight, sweetie." She planted a kiss on the top of Spike's head that made him squirm and Rupert chuckle.

"Thank God," Spike muttered as she left.

"I'll get a lock put on the door for you, Spike," said Rupert. "Do you need a hand to get up?"

"Don't need a hand, but yeah, a lock would be good, thanks."

"Okay, well, I'd better get back to your mother."

Spike listened to Rupert's heavy tread for several steps before it paused. "Oh, and Spike, maybe the next time you entertain Buffy, you shouldn't cut her leaving quite so fine if you don't want us to know about it."

Forgetting he was naked, Spike leapt to his feet. "Mum doesn't…?"

"Relax. I recognised her car as it drove away, but Drusilla was dozing and missed it."

"Shite…uh…"

"Either put on some pyjamas or get back into bed, eh?"

"Oh, bollocks!"

"Quite!" Rupert closed the door behind him as he left, but Spike heard the man's laughter.

Reaching out with his hand, Spike found the bed and lowered himself on it.

"What a weird night."

He shook his head but couldn't help but grin. Tracing the face of his Braille watch with his fingers, Spike decided that Buffy must have had time to get home by now. By nature a messy person, Spike now kept everything in its place. It was the only way he could hope to find things. His cell was where he'd left it on the bedside table. Speed dial one, and seconds later it was ringing.

"You're awake!" Buffy's voice held a smile.

"Yeah. And you buggered off without saying goodbye."

"I know. You looked so peaceful. I didn't want to wake you. I was going to leave you a note, but…"

"Mm…not much point of that."

He could almost hear her blush.

"I know, I'm sorry, I—"

"'S okay, only joking." His eyes widened at his admission. "It's a good job you did go…" He went on to tell her of his mother bursting in, and how he'd thought Buffy might have been hiding somewhere.

Both were yawning and struggling to stay awake by the time they hung up a couple of hours later.

"So," said Oz as he flicked the top off a bottle of Bud. "You're playing with us on Friday, yeah?"

Spike flexed his hand and nodded. "Yeah…I think so."

"Will Buffy be there?"

"You know damn well she will be. There's no way that Buff didn't tell Willow when I asked her."

Chuckling, Oz said, "True. Is it right that you're giving her a ride? You're not coming in the van?"

"Christ. The bush telegraph is working well. Yes," Spike said with a sigh, "I am getting a cab and I'm collecting Buffy."

"You know she'd come for you, don't you?"

Spike growled with frustration. "Stop bloody babying me, Oz. When I take a girl out, _**I**_ pick her up and _**I **_take her home. Doesn't matter that I'm not the one who's driving."

"Okay. Okay. I get it. Big man has to take care of little woman."

"Piss off." Spike scowled but his voice was light. "So what's the deal with you and Willow anyway? Seems she's spending most nights at yours these days."

"Have another beer." Oz tapped a bottle against Spike's knee.

"Thanks." Spike took the beer. "But no changing the subject."

"We're doing okay…I think. She freaked me out the other day when she said she was going to buy some cushions for the couch…but she was joking…I think she was joking…she was, right?"

Spike laughed so hard he nearly dropped the bottle. "Oh, man, she's nest making! Cushions! She'll be leaving a toothbrush and some clothes at yours soon, rather than bringing an overnight bag every time."

"Yeah, she will." Oz chuckled weakly.

"She already has, hasn't she?" Spike grinned broadly.

"Uh…no…not really…just a toothbrush."

"It's started though…you'd better watch out." Spike sobered. "Seriously though, mate. It's great that things are like that for you. I mean it."

"Thanks, man." Oz leaned forward and chinked his bottle against Spike's. "Do you want me to take your guitar for you?"

"That'd be good, thanks. The case is in the bottom of the wardrobe."

Oz drained his beer, put the bottle on the table and walked to the large wardrobe along the back wall of the room.

"Wow. Neat much."

"Yeah…not being able to see where you toss stuff, makes you mend your ways." Again, Spike marvelled at being able to joke at his condition.

"So…how do you know what colour you're wearing?" said Oz, running his hand over a rack of shirts all arranged by colour. "How do you remember which is which?"

"Check out the labels inside. Black has the label completely cut out. Blue has a V cut out of the bottom of it. And the white shirt's label is untouched. Same with the t-shirts on the shelves too."

"The jeans?"

Spike laughed. "Didn't have to bother with them since I only have black. Was never much for colour before, so it's easy to do it like that. I chucked the TV remote across the room in temper couple of weeks back. Took me an hour on my hands and knees to find the bloody thing."

"I should try to be neater. First time Will stayed over, I had to run in the bedroom and hide all the clothes and crap under the bed before she saw it."

When they stopped laughing, Spike said, "So what colour's your hair this week? What does Will think of you dyeing it all the time?"

Rubbing a hand over his deep purple hair, Oz grinned and confessed the colour. "I'm not sure about it, but Will says she loves it 'cause it matches her favourite dress."

"Matches her…" Spike's words were lost as he choked on his beer, recovering only when Oz slapped him on the back several times.

"Now you're breathing normally again, I'll go. See you at the Bronze later."

Spike nodded, eyes still streaming from choking. He heard his guitar twang as Oz put it in the case and raised a hand. "Later."

When Oz had left, Spike got up and locked his door before walking back to the bed and flopping down on it. His thoughts turned to Buffy, causing his stomach to flip-flop as if he'd never had a date before. He shrugged and shook his head. All he was doing was going to the Bronze to play with the Dingoes. All that was different was that Buffy would be sitting backstage with him.

"Nothing to it," he muttered, but it still took him twice his usual time to get ready.

Having endured his mother seeing him off at the door, despite her being in the dark about the whole date thing, Spike breathed a sigh of relief as sat in the rear seat of Xander's taxi.

"So…despatch says that it's not straight to the Bronze, we've got a stop on the way?"

"Yeah…said I'd take a friend there."

Xander glanced in the rear-view mirror, knowing that his next question would have Spike blushing to the roots of his newly bleached hair. "And this friend wouldn't happen to be female would it?"

"Uh…yeah…but—"

"Hey! You don't need to explain yourself to me." He smiled as he lowered his voice. "'Bout time."

"I bloody heard that last bit too. Don't say anything when Buffy gets in the cab, sh—"

"Buffy? Did you say Buffy?" The car veered to the right a little.

"Oi! Watch the road!" Spike gripped at the edge of the seat, his heart racing, just waiting for the impact.

"Sorry." Xander silently cursed himself for giving Spike a fright. "It's just I know her…well knew her…well sort of looked at her a lot."

"Want to say that again, but in English?" Spike forced himself to relax. The car wasn't going to crash. There would be no pain and hospitalisation.

"We survived the hellhole that is Sunnydale High together. By together I mean, she was popular and had lots of friends and I wasn't and didn't." He gave a snort. "It was her friend Willow that I knew more. She tutored me in math and science."

"Uh…they're still friends."

"Yeah, I know. They run that comic store just round the corner from the coffee shop. Always thought it was funny that they went through college and then opened that."

"I think they're doing okay out of it, though." Spike felt he had to defend their decision.

"We're here." Xander pulled the car next to the curb. "Do you want me to go to the door?"

"No…just honk the horn."

A full five minutes after Xander hooted the horn, Buffy erupted from the front door, letting it slam shut behind her. She paused only long enough to smooth her hair, then saw Spike and smiled.

Xander leapt out of the front seat to open the door so she could sit beside Spike.

"Hey, you." Buffy slid along the seat until her legs touched his. "Sorry for holding you up."

"You didn't. Willow said always to add another ten minutes or so where you were concerned." He checked the time. "You were only five…so effectively we're now going to be early."

In reply she leaned closer and kissed him soundly on his mouth. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted Xander watching in the mirror with a sappy grin on his face. She pulled away from Spike and peered at Xander.

"Don't I know you?" She snapped her fingers – not very well – a couple of times. "It's Xander Harris, isn't it?"

Any swelling of the heart that Xander felt by being finally noticed by his high school crush was stopped dead when she added, "How long have you been driving a cab?"

"Uh…more or less since graduation."

"Oh right."

An awkward silence hovered between them until Spike slid his hand high up Buffy's thigh. She gave a small shriek, then leaned close to whisper in his ear. "Stop it. He's watching."

Spike smothered the pang knowing he'd never be able to watch her sent through him, by smothering her lips with his own.

Xander coughed loudly and muttered, "Get a room."

All three burst out laughing at that. By the time Xander delivered Spike and Buffy to the Bronze, they had discovered that Willow had made Buffy watch Xander when he took part in a swimming gala, and also that because of Will's crush, Buffy avoided talking to him when she was alone, so as to not upset her friend.

"Do you remember your high school crush, Spike?" Xander asked as he opened the car door for him.

"Which one?"

He smirked at the memory of his last school dance. Never short of offers, that final dance before they all went their separate ways had been a whirlwind of snogs in corners and promises to keep in touch.

Buffy slapped his arm. "Pig!"

Spike paid Xander his fare and tip. "Thanks, mate. About midnight, yeah?"

"I'll be in the usual place." Xander rested a hand on Spike's shoulder. "Enjoy!"

Grinning, Spike nodded, wishing he could see Buffy's expression. Her hand slipping into his partly made up for that inability.

Spike's other hand hesitated to flick out the cane. He could rely on Xander to park so the door was straight in front of him, but he felt self-conscious about flicking out the cane with Buffy there. It was stupid, he knew, but he couldn't help it.

"Are we going inside?" Buffy's voice was soft in his ear.

"Er…yeah. 'Course. It's just—"

"Trust me, Spike." She tugged gently on his hand.

His first step was a little tentative, but when he asked if he could hold her arm, he found he really did trust her to keep him from stumbling over things – something he still didn't do with his mother.

They sat at the narrow table he used backstage, and when he came off after playing a couple of songs with the band, he discovered that having someone there to greet you was just great.

"Spike?" Buffy said when the band had finished their set.

He cocked his head to the side; there was something about the tone of her voice that made him think he wasn't going to like what was coming.

"Yeah?"

"I wondered if you minded if we went out front for a while?"

"Uh…" He tensed. "I dunno…it's getting late…"

She squeezed his arm. "It's not eleven yet. Come on, please?"

"I-I don't think I can…it's…" He shook his head and grimaced.

"Just what?" Her hand travelled up his arm and caressed the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine.

"Crowds…I don't like being near too many people…I know it's daft, but hearing all the voices and not seeing them… And they'll all know. Everybody will know…"

His voice trailed off again.

"I get that, but what's the alternative?"

He smiled weakly. "I get to stay here with you?"

"Well, yeah…but I don't want to skulk in the shadows with you, Spike. I'm proud to be with you."

Picking up her free hand, he brought it to his lips and gently nibbled at the middle finger before slipping it into his mouth.

Buffy stifled a moan. "Not fair…"

"I think it is."

She pulled her hand away. "I mean it. I want to sit out the front, so that everyone can see I'm dating the hot, blond guitarist." Cupping his head, she kissed him. "Please."

"For half an hour…and you find a table first, okay? Then come back for me. Don't want to trip up."

She was gone almost before he'd finished saying it.

"Bugger."

"I'm back," Buffy said unnecessarily as she jogged back to him. He'd heard her from the moment she opened the door. "Found a great table, away from the dance floor, just down from the stage door."

"Great."

"A little more enthusiasm, please!"

His heart pounding, he walked with her through the door he'd never let Oz talk him into going through. True to her word, the table was only a few strides away and the pathway there was unobstructed.

As they sat down, Spike's fingers entwined in hers ,and he gripped hard enough to make her wince.

"Hey, Spike," said one of the bar keeps, making him jump a little. "The boss sent you and your lady a beer on the house. It's good to have you back, man. We've missed you."

"Uh…thanks."

He waited until the man had walked away before letting his fingers find the bottles. Picking up the first, he offered it to Buffy, before taking a long pull from the second.

"So your mom was right. You are a bit of a player from what you said about your prom?"

"It was a dance not a prom. I'm English. We don't have proms…well not back in my day. They call them that now though and have those bloody daft long cars…"

Buffy giggled as he rambled on and gradually relaxed. He stopped being so aware of the people in the club, for all that really mattered was the girl sat at his side, holding his hand. The girl he could drive insane merely by suckling at her fingers. The girl who didn't seem to care that he couldn't see.


	13. Chapter 13

Treading Water

Chapter Thirteen

It was the next logical step. He knew it. He just wished it didn't turn his stomach into a broiling sea of acid when he thought about it. There were many things of his new life that he hated, the lack of confidence he now had being a major one. Maybe losing his sight was payback for being such a cocky, arrogant git most of the time? If it was payback, he was getting it in spades.

Back then, a girl inviting him to her place for a meal was leapt upon as a guaranteed shag with a bit of food thrown in for good measure. But now…

_Shite, I'm gonna throw up._

How the hell Buffy had managed to persuade him to agree to eat at her apartment he'd never know. The woman just didn't take no for an answer.

_I can't do it. I just fucking can't._

He sat down on the edge of his bed and buried his face in his hands as he tried to stem the vivid images of what might happen on the date from flitting through his mind in glorious Technicolor.

There was the whole having to try to remember where the furniture was or fall on your face. The ever popular having to be shown where the bathroom was like a little kid, and then to cap it all he had to try to get through eating a bloody meal with her. Would he end up having sauce on his shirt? Would half his dinner end up on the tablecloth or worst, the floor? Would Buffy still be so apparently cool about his blindness when she realised that he had the table manners of a toddler?

He sat up straight. "I'm not going and that's it!"

As his fingers touched his cell phone, it rang. He knew that the caller would be Buffy even before he answered it.

"Hey! Just checking that you're still okay for tonight?"

She was giving him an out. He could hear it in her voice. So why was it that when he opened his mouth he said, "Sure. Looking forward to it."?

"Cool! So I'll see you in a couple of hours then?"

"Yeah," Spike said weakly.

Buffy disconnected and he put the handset back on the bedside table in a bit of a daze.

"Oh, bloody hell."

He'd told Rupert of his dates with Buffy at the Bronze and of this dinner date, but as yet his mother was unaware of her son's burgeoning romance. Rupert had agreed to tell Drusilla that Spike was going to Oz's. Neither man mentioned the possibility that he might spend his first night away from the house since his return from hospital.

It was with a sigh of relief on seeing that the cab driver wasn't Xander that Spike slid into the rear seat. He gave the address and held his white cane between his knees as he forced himself to relax.

"Uh… Where are we parked in relation to the door?" Spike asked when they arrived, as he thrust the fare towards the driver.

"It's a couple of yards to the left of us. Sorry, Xan said to park directly opposite but there's a car in the way. Do you need a hand?"

"No. I'll be fine. Thanks."

No way was Spike going to arrive clinging to the arm of some bloody stranger. He waited until the cab drove away before flicking out his cane and taking a tentative step forwards.

"Hey. You're right on time," Buffy said, making him jump.

"Yeah, well some of us consider tardiness to be akin to devil worship." His attempt at humour fell flat as his tension came through in the tone.

"I'm glad you came."

A kiss on his cheek made Spike smile. "Me too." It was only half a lie.

She guided his hand to her elbow and then led him up the stairs to her apartment.

"The whole place could probably fit in your room," Buffy said, the difference in their finances making her aware of the apartment's shortcomings.

"Least this is yours. I still live with my sodding mother."

Spike squeezed his eyes shut as he willed away the memory of his bed-sit in London. After the death of his father he'd sold the house, preferring to stay in the little flat he'd rented when he was at university.

"We're here." Buffy's voice gave away the fact that she was nervous about the evening too. She pushed the door open and cast her eyes around the room. She'd moved as much of the clutter into Willow's room as possible, but it still looked cramped. "The couch is off to the left."

She led him over and sat down with him. Spike sat ramrod straight on the edge of the seat, hands fiddling with the white cane he hated using in front of Buffy.

"Beer?" Buffy leapt up. "I'll get us one." She was gone before he could reply.

From the sound of the refrigerator door opening, Spike guessed the kitchen was part of the living area. He wondered what colour the decoration was – you could tell a lot about a person from their home…only he couldn't anymore. Yet another on the long list of things he couldn't do.

"Here." The couch dipped as she sat on it and nudged a bottle against the back of his hand.

When his fingers wrapped around the bottle, she gently took the cane from his other hand. "You don't need this right now. There's a table to your right at the end of the couch. I'll put it there, okay?"

"Okay." It was more a croak than a word. He cleared his throat. "Uh…yeah. Thanks." After an awkward silence, Spike continued. "Tell me what it's like."

"The apartment?"

"Yeah." He downed half his beer in one go, needing the buzz it gave.

"Well, it's got two bedrooms – Will bagged the largest as she spotted the ad for it. The kitchen is only separated b—"

"I mean colours, nik-naks, that sort of thing."

"Oh…right."

Spike swapped the bottle into his right hand and reached out with his left until it found her leg. Resting it there, he turned his face towards her. "I miss colour, you know?" He shrugged with a half smile. "I spent most of my life wearing mostly black. When I was a kid and still with my dad I painted my bedroom black one time." The smile broadened. "Hell, he went mental when he saw it, but he never made me change it."

"He sounds like a good man." She covered his hand with her own and squeezed.

"The best." Spike nodded. "But now…I remember colours and…and… Forget it. Supposed to be here having a good time…"

"No, go on. What were you going to say?"

He dipped his head, closing his eyes. "Now I'm scared that I'll forget what they are. Stupid, huh? Worrying about forgetting what yellow daffodils look like under spring sun back home."

"No…not stupid."

She leaned in and kissed him. Taking his beer from him, she put it on the floor and snuggled closer to him as she described the apartment in minute detail. Making him chuckle at the weird ornaments that Willow favoured.

He opened his mouth to say something then thought better of it. It was too soon, and were the growing feelings he had for Buffy merely him clutching at the first woman who showed an interest in him since his accident? Reading too much into the emotions she stirred up within him?

The doorbell ringing broke the moment.

"That'll be dinner!" Buffy disentangled herself from his arms.

"Hey…I thought you were cooking the meal?"

She laughed. "No…I asked you over for a meal. I never said anything about cooking it. Trust me…takeout is your friend."

Spike grinned. It was hard to stay melancholy around Buffy. "So what have we got?" _Please not Chinese. _The thought of chopsticks made his blood run cold.

"How's fried chicken and barbeque ribs sound?"

The aromas as Buffy opened the cartons had Spike's stomach growling.

"Sounds great." Food he could eat with his fingers…no chasing peas around his plate.

"It will probably be easier if we eat at the table. The way is clear if you stand up and head to the left."

He fumbled for his cane and flicked it out before standing. As he got to his feet, one nudged the bottle Buffy had left on the floor and he could hear the liquid glugging out.

"Bollocks!" He bent down to pick it up.

"What is it?" Buffy rushed over to him. "Are you okay?"

"I am…not so sure about the carpet." Spike's face was crimson and his jaw set rigid.

"My bad for leaving it on the floor. It's nothing. Come to the table and I'll wipe it up." She touched his arm, but he shrugged her off.

"It's not nothing! If I could see I wouldn't have made a bleeding mess, would I?"

"Oh, Spike, stop it!"

Scowling he said, "Stop what?"

"Before the accident, did you never knock things over? Did you never trip up? 'Cause if that's true then you're a better person than me! It was an accident – get over it. I saw you sitting in the park one day and you know what happened? I wanted to go over to you to say hello and was so nervous I fell over my own feet and ripped the knee out of my favourite jeans!"

"But—"

"No buts, Spike. You can't change what's happened to you and it's awful, truly awful…I get that. But you've got to stop thinking like you do or you'll never be happy again."

"I'm sorry…I'd better leave…"

"No way are you leaving, mister. Not when I have finger food to eat."

Spike couldn't help but smile. "Hope you've got plenty of napkins…this could get messy."

"No. No napkins at all. We'll just have to lick our fingers clean. So are you going to stand there all night or go to the table and eat?"

xoxoxoxox

"Well…when you put it like that…" He held his hand out towards her. "Will you show me the way?" Suddenly being guided didn't seem so bad.

Buffy watched Spike carefully as they ate. That was one advantage of his lack of sight—he couldn't see her staring. Slowly he began to unwind, telling her tales of his hi-jinks at school and university. At times he'd go a little quiet as the world crowded in again, but she guided him through it as deftly as she'd guided him to the table.

The meal over and the cartons in the trash, they settled on the couch and listened to music. Well listened for about five minutes until Spike declared the boy band pop was making him nauseous. After that they just snuggled, which suited Buffy just fine.

"You're going to stay over, aren't you?" she whispered the words in his ear.

"I'd like to…but if you don't want to—"

She kissed him hard, right then to shut him up. "Oh I want to, Spike. I really do."

Leading him by the hand, she took him to the bedroom and onto her queen-sized bed.

"This room's pink," Spike said, grinning as he pulled his t-shirt over his head.

"What? How do you know? Did Willow tell you?"

He wrapped his arms around her, then sat on the bed, making her sit on his lap. "No. But I swear it smells pink."

Laughing, they collapsed back onto the bed.

After making love for what seemed like hours, Buffy propped her head on her hand and watched Spike as he began to drift off to sleep. This time she wouldn't have to run out on him. It was too soon to say it, but she knew that he was _the one._ She also knew that the relationship wasn't going to be easy. She understood him more now though. He'd been so active and independent, there was no wonder he tended to get depressed and defeatist. She closed her eyes and snuggled into the crook of his arm. He was chauvinistic enough to think he had to look after and provide for her, but what he didn't know was that she felt safer in his arms than she had in any others.


	14. Chapter 14

Treading Water

Chapter Fourteen

Spike woke when Buffy turned over and the loss of her warm, pliant body against his left a cool void. Smiling, he opened his eyes and for the first time his smile didn't fade when no light welcomed him. He turned on his side, reaching out to touch her. Whether the feelings he had for her were borne of his gratitude for her attention or not, they surely felt real at that moment. His body ached with the need to hold her. Shifting across his bed, he put his arm over her waist and pulled her towards him. With a soft moan, Buffy pressed back against his body, causing him to moan in return as her buttocks settled against his groin.

Unable to resist, Spike began to nuzzle at her neck, placing feather-light kisses along its smooth curve. When he nibbled on her earlobe, she shivered and chuckled.

"I could get used to being woken up like this."

Spike grinned and nipped a little harder. "I can think of something I could get used to." He jerked his hips forward, leaving her in no doubt about his intentions.

"Oh, no you don't! Not before I brush my teeth, anyway."

Reluctantly, he let her slither out of his clutches and he waited patiently for her return. Counting the number of steps she took to get to the bathroom, the squeak of the tap being turned on. Brush, brush, brush, gargle, spit. She took two less strides to get back to the bed, and he smirked as she slid back between the sheets.

"What are you looking so pleased about?" She nudged him.

"Nothing. I'd better go brush my teeth, yeah?"

"Do you really want to?"

He gasped as a small hand encircled his erection. "Guess not." Buffy laughed out loud, his words little more than a strangled croak.

"So what do you really want to do?" She caught his bottom lip with her teeth, then put her hand behind his head as she kissed him with an urgency that had him groaning.

"Jeez, Buffy…"

He worried that he would forget colours, but the orgasm that morning was like fireworks going off in his mind. Panting, completely spent, Spike collapsed on his back and waited for his senses to settle down.

"I think I'll cancel my gym membership," said Buffy, wheezing slightly. "This has been a much better workout."

Laughing, Spike moved his hand until it found hers and held it tight. "I never realised how flexible you were."

Buffy slapped him with her free hand, before pulling her other away and climbing out of bed.

"Hey!" He leaned forwards, fingers seeking her out. "Where are you going?"

"Work."

"But it's Saturday…"

"I know and it's our busiest day. Sorry, but I'm already running late."

She leaned down and pecked his cheek, batting away his grasping hands, and headed to the bathroom for a shower. The smell of her shower gel preceded her return to the bedroom. Less than five minutes later, she'd scraped her still damp hair into a ponytail, thrown on a pair of faded jeans and a t-shirt with butterflies on the front, and pushed her feet into a pair of battered looking trainers.

"Spike, I'm really sorry, but I've got to go." Another kiss, this time on his lips. With a moan, she stood up.

"I'd love a cup of tea."

"Help yourself to anything you want. Just pull the door shut behind you – it'll lock automatically. I'll call you later, okay?" With that she was gone.

"Uh… Okay."

The bubble of his happiness burst when he tried to shower. Stubbing his toe on the toilet as he tried to find the cubicle's door set the tone for the next few minutes. He realised he had no clue where her towels were kept, so settled for using the damp one Buffy had left hanging over the door. The shower itself didn't so much revive and refresh him as scald and freeze him as he struggled to figure out the controls.

Back in the bedroom, his mood deteriorated further as he couldn't find the clothes he'd stripped off in passion. Eventually, he gave up one sock as lost forever and stomped to the bedroom door. Pausing, Spike tried to remember where everything was. The cane that could help him, was sitting somewhere in the middle on a table.

Forcing himself to stay calm and move slowly, he found the couch without mishap. He sat on it, shuffling along until he got to where he'd sat the night before, so he could reach his cane. With a sigh, he flicked it out, but sat with it between his knees for a while, trying to calm his frustration. Waking up in his girlfriend's apartment shouldn't be so damn difficult. He turned his head to where the kitchen area was; he'd kill for a cup of tea.

Buffy's words came back to him. Help yourself. What would she think when she found out he couldn't even do that simple task?

"Pathetic sodding loser."

Living at home meant that he had done nothing to care for himself except to learn to shave without using a mirror, shower and get dressed.

"There are loads of blind people, and I bet they can all make a cuppa."

Standing up abruptly, he made his way to the kitchen. Opened just about every cupboard in his quest for a mug, failed to find a kettle, resisted the urge the throw the mug across the room and instead put it back in its place before growling with frustration and thumping the counter with his fist.

His heart hammering in his chest, he pulled out his cell and dialled Oz.

"Hey, Spike. How'd last night go?"

"Yeah, good…well great actually, but…"

"But what?"

"I'm useless."

Oz began to splutter and despite his bleak mood, Spike chuckled. "I don't mean how you're thinking! I mean I can't even make a bloody cup of tea."

With a dramatic sigh of relief, Oz said, "Thank God! Was really thinking that was going to be TMI. Anyhow, it's gonna take a while before you know where everything is."

"I don't mean just here. Since... well, since I came out of hospital, I haven't done anything like that. When I want something to eat or a hot drink then I just ask for it. I've got my little fridge filled with pop and beer, but that's the extent of my self-sufficiency."

"Oh."

"Exactly."

"When I was getting released from hospital after the tests over here, the doctor said something about a facility not far from here…? Mum vetoed it, and to be honest I didn't like the idea either. Too much like accepting this is how it's going to be from now on." He swallowed hard, hating saying it out loud. "But…well, it's not going to change, and I can't live like I have been forever. So I was wondering…?"

"Do you want me to get some information about it for you?"

As ever, Oz's matter-of-fact attitude calmed Spike's frazzled nerves. "Thanks."

"Not a problem. And how about I pick you up and we go grab some breakfast? I'm starving."

"You're on."

"I'll be there in about twenty minutes."

They hung up and Spike walked slowly back to the couch, waiting in silence until Oz buzzed up to say he'd arrived. It wasn't until Spike pulled the door closed that he realised he had no clue where the stairs were. They'd come up in the elevator, but he'd been too wound up about the evening ahead to ask her to show him where the buttons were.

"Need a hand, buddy?"

Spike hesitated. This was what he really hated – this reliance on others especially strangers. "Uh…yeah…thanks. I need to get to the front door, please."

"Sure thing. The elevators just down the hall to your right."

The man walked alongside Spike as they headed for the elevator. He pushed the call button. When the doors opened with a ping, he asked Spike to go in first, before following him and pressing the relevant button.

"So… my name's Gunn…Charles Gunn. I live at 3B."

"Spike." He held out his hand towards the man.

Gunn's throaty chuckle filled the elevator. "Just Spike? Didn't your parents like you much?"

"It's the names they gave me that prompted me to use the nickname." Spike grinned.

The elevator lurched to a stop.

"Thanks for the help."

"Anytime, man."

The doors slid open.

"Spike!" I was just on my way up." Oz glanced at the tall dark-skinned man who was ogling his green hair.

"Nice to meet you." Gunn rested a hand on Spike's shoulder, nodded at Oz and walked away.

"You too."

"Who was that?" Oz asked as they walked out the front door to where he'd parked his van.

"Dunno, I was just having some trouble so he stepped in."

"Good of him. I don't think he liked my hair though. Looked at me sideways."

Spike laughed. "Oz, not many people do like your hair. Even Willow hates this green colour."

"I can't change it too soon, or my hair will begin to fall out. And you can stop snickering, blondie."

"Watch it." Spike waved his cane.

They climbed in the van and Oz drove a few blocks. "Did Buffy eat before she left this morning?" Oz asked.

"No…she was running a bit…er…late." He scowled, he never used to spend so much time bloody blushing.

Oz cuffed his arm. "Hmm…Willow didn't eat either. What'd you think to dropping by the store with bagels, donuts and coffee?"

"Uh…" Spike shuddered at the thought of rows upon rows of things to bump into, but if he was serious about being with Buffy, he had to at least try to act normal. "Okay, I guess."

"Cool."

When they got to the store, Oz told Spike that there was a small parking lot at the rear as he pulled into it. He guided Spike around to the rear door before grabbing the boxes and cups.

"Door's right in front of you. Can you knock on it, for me?"

"Sure."

Spike took another pace and rapped loudly. A few minutes later the door was opened by a grumbling Willow.

"This door is for deliv—oh! Spike, hi." She grinned and glanced over his shoulder. "Oz!"

"Can we come in? We are delivering something, aren't we, Spike?"

"Yeah. Breakfast. Got bagels and donuts and—"

"Donuts? Did someone say donuts?" Buffy appeared. "Come in. I've got to get back out front, there's a kid that I just know is trying to steal a Silver Surfer."

She disappeared, leaving Willow to lead them through the small store room cum kitchen to the area behind the counter.

"And don't come back!" The front door slammed and Buffy faced them with triumph waving a comic book. "Got him! The little creep had it tucked down his pants."

"Eew!" Willow grimaced.

"I'm not sure I like the sound of you going round pulling things out of other blokes' trousers." Spike raised his eyebrows.

At his side in an instant, Buffy took Spike's hand. "He wasn't a _bloke_-God that sounds wrong with my accent-he was a kid. Twelve max."

"Well, I guess that's alright then."

"Here there's a stool just to your left. Sit on that while I look what we've got for breakfast."

Spike did as he was told even though it rankled that he'd been ordered around like a little kid to keep him out of the way. He knew he was being unreasonable, but things like that just cut him to the quick. She should be sitting on the stool while he plied her with donuts, not the other way around.

Noticing Spike beginning to close down, Oz grabbed one of the cardboard cups and passed it to him.

"Here's your coffee."

"Thanks."

Soon his momentary discomfort was forgotten as the three of them chatted amiably. When Oz began to get restless, Spike offered to stay with Buffy, as long as the girls didn't mind. He'd decided he quite liked his stool after all. All that waited for him at home was a day spent mostly alone listening to music or twanging out a song or two on the guitar. Buffy instantly told Willow she's no need to stay since Spike was with her. Careful of upsetting Spike by worrying about the store getting busy and not being there, Willow gave her friend a hug and left out the backdoor with Oz.

Spike's stool was near the cash register, so he had the very pleasant experience of Buffy pressing close to him with every purchase made. She'd gone to find a comic from the storeroom to fill a telephone order when Spike heard the tinkle of the bell as the front door opened. Footsteps approached him and Spike turned towards the rear of the store in the hope of hearing Buffy's return.

"Hey, dude. The newest Angel in yet?"

"Uh…I don't know…sorry."

"Okay. I'll go take a look."

Spike smiled weakly and turned his head once more to where Buffy had gone. Something slapped down on the counter next to him, making him jump.

"Found it."

"Great…uh…she'll be back soon." He kept his face down-turned.

"Can't you take the payment? I mean, man, you're almost sitting on the register."

"Sorry…I don't know how it works."

"Don't know how it works? The price is right here on the back." The lad waved it to and fro, Spike could feel the air wafting his face. "All you have to do is push the buttons, it's not so hard…unless you're dumb and blind!"

A muscle ticked in Spike's jaw as he raised his head. "You got that half right."

"Huh?" The guy scowled at Spike, then froze as realization set in. "Oh…shit…man, I'm sorry…I jus—"

"That right? I'm guessing you're not as fucking sorry about it as I am."

Spike slid off the stool, and with the cane swinging from side to side, he walked as quickly as he dare towards the storeroom, almost colliding with Buffy.

"Did I hear someone come in?" she asked.

"Yeah…just coming to get you."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Look you'd better take the money before you lose the sale."

She touched his hand, but he pulled it out of reach, waving her away. Frowning, she shook her head and went to serve the customer. As he heard the cheerful beeps of the keys on the register, Spike leaned against the door and fought the rage that bubbled inside him. He thumped the wall with the heel of his hand and groaned. Pulling out his cell phone, Spike dialled for a cab.

"What are you doing staying back here?" Buffy said as she stepped close to him.

"Wanted to do this." Spike touched her arm and then traced his way up to her head, cupping it, he pulled her into a kiss. When their lips parted, he added, "I've got to go. Cab'll be here in a minute."

"Did something happen?" She squeezed his hand tight.

"No…nothing…just, I know it's lame but it's the first time I've stayed out all night and my mum'll be worrying. Don't want to push my luck with her, okay?"

He could tell Buffy was pouting by her voice. "No…not okay. I liked having you here."

"I liked it too, but—"

A horn honked outside the back door.

"That'll be my ride. We'll talk later." He kissed her again, kicking himself mentally for being unable to keep from running away.

"Okay."

Buffy went to guide him to the door but he shook his head. It's okay…it's Xander, he'll help me. You'd better watch the store, yeah?"

"Suppose." She kissed his cheek. "Would rather be with you."

"I know. Same here." He kissed her cheek and tapped his way to the door.

Buffy waited until he'd gone through it before returning to the counter. Something had spooked him.

"Damn it!" She kicked at the stool he'd been sitting on. "Just when he was loosening up."

Spike was silent for most of the ride home, Xander soon stopped trying to chat. Finally, Spike was alone in his room, having successfully avoided his mother who was entertaining some of her charity friends in the lounge. He threw himself down on his bed, relishing the fact he knew exactly where everything was. Instead of waiting for Oz to do it, Spike found the number for the doctor and called himself.

"Hello? Doctor Walton?"

"Speaking."

"Hi…it's, Spike…er…William Pratt. I just want to ask you about…"

By the time he'd hung up it had all been arranged. Spike would be collected on Monday morning and spend time at the facility working on how to adapt fully to living with his disability, with the hope of making him able to be more independent.

Now he just had to tell his mother and Buffy…


	15. Chapter 15

Treading Water

Chapter Fifteen

As soon as the last cars pulled away from the house, Dru marched to Spike's room as he knew she would. He'd left the door unlocked to save her from spraining a wrist as she tried to barge in.

"Don't think I don't know what time it was when you got home, young man. Didn't it occur to you to call me to let me know you were alright? Anything could have happened to you!"

Spike smiled. It was that or throw something at the woman and maybe that would come later…? "You knew where I was, Mum." Fingers crossed, no lie. "I was with a bloody nurse so if anything had happened to me I'd got the right bloke with me, hadn't I?"

"Yes…but…but…" Dru all but stamped her food with frustration before adopting a wheedling tone. "You should have called. I had your breakfast all ready for you."

"What? You actually made breakfast?"

"Well, no…not personally, don't be silly. But I did tell her what to make."

"Course you did." The sarcasm was lost on his mother.

"Well in future make sure you call."

Taking a deep breath, Spike decided now was as good a time as any. "I'll call you every evening from Monday, okay?"

"Now you're just being silly. You don't need to call me when you're at home."

"That's the thing, though. I won't be here." He held up both palms to stop her speaking. "It's not up for debate, Mum. I'm going to that facility the doc mentioned weeks ago. I'm blind. It's permanent." God, it hurt so much to say that aloud. "So I need help learning how to do stuff myself. I love you, but I can't live here forever. I need to try to get some sort of life back. I'm just treading water here and I can't do it any more."

"But—"

"Please, Mum. Be happy for me, yeah? I need to do this."

Bracing himself for a screeching protestation, to his shock her hands grasped his and squeezed.

"Are you sure about this? The people there—"

"Will be like me."

"We could get someone to come here. You don't need to go away." Her voice hitched.

"I do. I can't go through life not able to even cook a meal or make a cup of tea."

"But you don't need to do that…we have household staff for that reason."

Spike pulled his hands away. "That's just it, Mum. I don't want to live like that. I need some independence."

"You just want to be anywhere but here with me. Just like when your father died – you can't wait to get away from me."

"This isn't about you…it's about me. This is _my_ life and _I _have to do this. Can't you just be happy that I'm trying to move on from what's happened?"

"But I know you're safe here with me."

Softening his voice, Spike said, "I know that, but it's only for a few weeks."

"Then you'll come back?"

"I will." _To Sunnydale, but maybe not this house. _

"I wonder what Rupert will have to say about this?" Dru flounced out of the room.

Rupert, predictably, agreed that it would be a good thing for Spike to do. Now Spike just had to tell Buffy.

Any hope of a spending his last evening in Buffy's arms was lost as she succumbed to illness. He told her over the telephone in the end as she ended up spending much of Sunday in bed. She was supportive despite being upset that Spike hadn't found out the rules regarding visitors. He'd hung up promising to call as often as he could.

xoxoxoxox

Monday morning finally arrived to find Spike's bag packed and him waiting nervously for the transport to come to collect him. To his utter relief, Rupert had managed to get Drusilla out of the house so Spike could avoid any clingy scenes when the vehicle arrived.

The intercom for the gates buzzed and Spike leapt half out of his skin despite expecting it. He pushed the gate release button and waited. As he heard the vehicle pull up in front of the house, Spike opened the door and stepped outside.

"Hi, I guess you must be William?" The timbre of the man's voice was so deep that Spike could almost feel the vibrations in his own chest.

"I prefer Spike, but yeah, that's me. I'll just get my bags."

"I'm Mike, but let me get the bags for you."

"Oh, okay." Spike stepped back to allow the man to enter the hallway.

"You want the guitar to come along too?"

"Yes, as long as it's allowed."

The man laughed. "You're not going to prison, you know."

"Suppose not." Now the moment had arrived, all Spike wanted to do was to run back to the familiar room and lock the door.

"I'll just put these in the trunk, then I'll help you in the car."

"Thanks." Spike pulled the door closed once Mike had passed him and stood as he heard the trunk being opened.

Mike glanced up at Spike as he slammed the lid down, seeing the clenched jaw and tense posture. The facility was one of the best, but it was going to be a lot different living there to in these luxurious surroundings.

"If you take a step or two forward you'll find the car. You need to go to your left a little to find the door handle."

Spike flushed as he fumbled his fingers along the side of the car before he found the handle. He climbed into the front passenger seat, managing to get the seatbelt fastened before Mike turned the ignition.

"Okay. Off we go."

Mike gave up on the small-talk after fifteen minutes of monosyllabic responses. That suited Spike just fine. He rested his head on the window and closed his eyes, trying to still the too rapid rhythm of his heart.

"Sandar Lodge," announced Mike as he drove the car up the drive to the entrance. "I'll walk you to the desk then take your luggage up to your room and leave you to get registered in."

"Thanks."

As Spike held the other man's elbow and concentrated on not tripping on the unfamiliar steps, he wondered what the building was like. Was it old – well, old for California? Or was it a modern featureless box? So much information was lost to him without his sight and he truly wondered if it was possible to get through a day without mourning its loss acutely.

"Hello, Cordelia. This is Mr. Pratt," said Mike before adding, "The counter is right in front of you."

"Spike. God, don't call me Mr. Pratt."

Cordelia laughed, but it sounded a little fake to Spike. "Spike it is then. Welcome to Sandar Lodge. I do hope your stay will be useful to you."

She proceeded to chat endlessly as she took Spike's details and handed him the key to the room he'd be staying in.

"I'll show you around and then you can go up and get settled in. Lunch is served at noon and then group therapy will begin after that. It's a great way to get to know the others."

Spike's Englishness cringed at the words 'group therapy'. Therapy was bad enough but to be expected to bare all to strangers…? He could think of nothing worse. She escorted him to the dining room first, then backtracked with him to the staircase. His room was the third on the left. By then Spike was beginning to zone out her babble, but the last words she said as she turned away with a waft of her overpowering perfume caused him to go rigid.

"Sorry, what did you say?"

"I said, your roommate, is already in there. He's a total sweetie. I'm sure you'll get along really well."

"Roommate? I thought we were here to learn to be independent, not share a bloody room."

"Sorry, Fred thinks it's for the best. She'll see you in the group session after lunch."

Spike's mouth opened and closed a couple of times without a sound passing his lips. After a moment, he took a deep breath and opened the door. How the fuck was he supposed to know where everything was? He half-heartedly swung his cane, but connected with nothing.

"Hi. The name's Finn, Riley Finn. You must be W—"

"Spike. I'm Spike, okay?"

"Spike. Got it." Riley's voice held an amused tone.

"What's so bloody funny?"

"Nothing." Riley snorted. "Just my granddaddy had a dog named Spike. Real good hunting dog too."

"Wow, that's good to know." Spike did his utmost not to let his smile show in his voice, but failed. "Uh…don't suppose you know where my bed is, do you?"

"I reconnoitred the room before you got here. The beds are against each side wall. I took the left one. There's a wardrobe at the bottom of the bed and a side table with a lamp on it. The bathroom is on your side of the room too. Sorry."

"No worries. First come and all that."

Spike reached out with his cane, taking small uncertain steps until it tapped against the wooden wardrobe. Moving with more confidence, he found the bed and sat on it, unsure what else to do.

"Uh…so what do we do now?"

"I dunno. I put my kit away."

"Kit. Reconnoitre. What are you? A soldier?"

"Was." There was no humour in Riley's voice now. "Was a soldier, now…well I'm not sure what the hell I am."

"I hear you." Spike nodded.

Silence stretched out between them and neither knew what to say to break it, so it was with no small measure of relief that they heard the bell go for lunch.

"I guess that's us," said Spike, standing up. "Er…do you want to go first? We'll end up colliding in the doorway, otherwise."

"Sure."

Spike waited for Riley to pass him, then walked out into the corridor. He stayed behind Riley as they walked down the stairs and to the dining room. Hearing the cacophony of voices almost made Spike turn back, unsure he could deal with this experience at all.

"Don't just stand there. Come on in. Find yourself a table—"

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"Just walk forward and you'll find the table. We just have one large one here, and the house rules are that the first people in go to the farthest seats at the table. You two are the last to arrive, so you have the nearest seats."

Gritting his teeth, Spike stepped forward until his cane tapped against a chair and sat in it with relief.

"I'm Rachel, by the way. I'll be serving your meal."

"Spike," he mumbled, keeping his head down as if he could see his hands twisting the strap on his cane. He hadn't been there more than an hour and he hated it.

After safely negotiating the meal, which to his relief was sandwiches, and not joining in the rather stilted conversation, Spike duly went with the others to the lounge to begin the first session. Once they were all settled in the various armchairs and sofas that were spread in a large oval in the centre of the room, a new voice made itself known.

"Hello, everyone. My name is Dr. Winifred Burkle. Fred. Welcome to Sandar Lodge. I know you're all probably feeling a little overwhelmed by it all at the moment." There were a couple of self-conscious chuckles. "So what I want to do today is for us to take it in turn to introduce yourselves to the others. I'll go first. You know my name, and I'm guessing that I don't need to tell you where I'm originally from?"

More chuckles. Her Texan drawl was unmistakeable.

"Well, I'm married to Wesley. He's English like you, William." She smiled in his direction, it fading when she saw how tense he looked.

"Spike. I'm known as Spike." He sincerely hoped it would be the last time he had to say it.

"Why don't you go first then, Spike? Tell us a little about yourself."

"Uh…okay. I'm twenty-four. English, as you know. Um…"

"Go on," prompted Fred, gently.

"Er…I studied English Lit at Uni. I wasted my time once I graduated, I suppose. Thought I'd be a teacher, but got fed up of that sort of environment by the time I graduated. So I dossed about working in a record shop." He gave a ghost of a smile. "I thought it was great. I got free tickets to go see bands live. Until…" He waved a hand towards his eyes, then snorted remembering that of the eleven people in the room only one would be able to see it. "Car crash. Woke up blind. Here I am."

"Gee, that's tough, losing it all of a sudden like that." A woman's voice piped up from the far side of the room.

"Would you like to go next, Maureen?" asked Fred.

"Sure. Unlike Spike, my sight went gradually over the last ten years or so…"

Each in turn told their story, until by the end of the session, Spike knew that only he and his roommate, Riley, had no vision at all. The others were classed as blind but retained a little poor sight, such as tunnel vision. Spike envied them their lighter world, even though it still badly affected their lives. The ages ranged from Spike's twenty-four years to Maureen's sixty three. Diseases had claimed the sight of all but Spike and Riley, who was blinded when injured in an ambush in Afghanistan. Spike wondered if that was the main reason that they'd been put together. Both robbed of sight in one fell swoop.

Spike couldn't believe they'd been talking for four hours by the end of the session. Fred announced that they were free to explore the facility until dinner at six sharp.

"Uh…Fred?" Spike said as they began to file out of the room.

"Yes?"

"Does this place have a garden?"

"Yes, it does. Just go left out of this room. Follow the corridor as it goes round a corner to the right, then the patio doors will be on the left and will be open. Don't worry if you get lost, we have plenty of staff that will be watching out for you until you get your bearings."

"Thanks." He couldn't help the bitter tone of his voice. The thought of strangers watching to see if he made a mistake made him cringe.

"Are you okay?" Fred rested her hand on his arm.

"Yeah, 'course I am. Just need some fresh air."

He was aware of the doctor's gaze on his back as he made his way down the corridor. Outside, he discovered a paved area with seating and he safely negotiated it before stepping onto the grass. After several strides he sat down, running his hand through his hair as he let out a sigh.

Was coming here the right decision? He guessed only time would tell. But right now he couldn't think of anything worst than sitting and talking about being blind all sodding day.


	16. Chapter 16

Treading Water

Chapter Sixteen

The evening meal was all of Spike's nightmares come true. He was last in, as he hadn't heard the bell out in the garden and had to be told by one of the staff. Spike then knocked the table as he tried to take his seat causing a bottle of water to fall over and spill. Face burning and his stomach churning with embarrassment, Spike then had to face the first conventional dinner he'd be presented with since the accident.

His fingers sought out the edge of the plate when it was placed in front of him. Somewhere on it were potatoes, carrots and roast beef. Hearing the others' cutlery clicking against the crockery, and listening to their chatter, Spike tried to stay calm. His mother and the cook had done him no favours by making all his meals easy to eat. He wondered how Riley managed to find the food, since he was the only other one in the same position as he. He supposed they expected him to have mastered eating food he couldn't see by now.

Unaware that his discomfort was being closely monitored, Spike picked up his knife and fork and gingerly prodded at the plate. He encountered what he guessed was a slice of beef. A little more exploration and he discovered the potatoes. Deciding they were easier to manage, Spike dug in his fork and leaned forwards, praying he'd get it to his mouth without dropping it. After two or three mouthfuls, he braved the pile of sliced carrots he'd found to the left of the potatoes.

It was the meat that was his undoing. His first attempt to cut a piece off ended in the beef sliding across the plate, sending carrots off the edge and onto the table. Mortified, he froze and it might have been all right but for a snicker from further down the table. Ted, a middle-aged former salesman who had, perhaps, the most sight of the group, called out to add to the embarrassment.

"Whoops! Don't worry, Maureen here's already spilled gravy on the table. Maybe we should have our food cut into bite-sized pieces and drink from baby training cups!"

A couple of the others laughed, but for Spike it was just too close to the truth of how he'd lived up to now. He shoved his chair back, leapt to his feet, gritted his teeth at the moment it took for him to remember where the door was, then stomped out of the room, banging his shoulder on the door frame in his haste.

Ted's voice followed him as he found the stairs.

"What's his problem? Was only joking. Can't believe he got so riled up about spilling some food."

"Shut up, Ted." Riley's firm voice had the desired effect on the man, who returned his attention to his own plate of food.

Spike managed to find his room without further incident. He flung himself on the bed, having to work hard to keep from flailing his arms and legs like a toddler having a tantrum.

"Fuck it."

Fists clenched, he took several deep slow breaths, willing himself to calm down. Without even realising he'd done it, his fingers closed around his cell phone which he'd put on the small table next to the bed.

He pressed a speed dial button. Buffy answered on the first ring.

"Hey! How are you? What's it like?" She giggled – the sound guaranteed to lift his heart. "Sorry. I'll stop with all the questions."

"How are you feeling now?" He ached to be with her.

"I'm better than yesterday, thanks. Will worked the store alone today, and all I've done is laze around the apartment. At least I didn't have to keep so close to the bathroom today."

"TMI." Spike smiled. "But I'm glad you're feeling better. I'm sorry I told you I was coming here over the phone."

"Trust me…you wouldn't have wanted to be near me on Sunday. Anyway, enough about me. What's it like there? Do you like it?"

"Er…yeah…'s okay. Just really done the introductions today."

"I'm so proud of you for doing this, Spike."

He squeezed his eyes shut. No way could he ask her to come and take him home now.

"So when can I come visit?" Buffy said into the awkward silence.

"Uh…I dunno. I haven't asked yet."

"You better not forget about me while you're there, mister."

"Could never forget you."

"Glad to hear it."

Her voice was light, but he could tell how pleased his words made her. For that reason if no other he knew he couldn't slink home with his tail between his legs. Not if he wanted her in his life. And he certainly wanted that.

They chatted about everything and nothing until Spike heard the door handle as it turned.

"Gotta go. My roommate's coming in."

"Roomie? I hope it's male."

"Why? Would you be jealous?"

"Of you sharing with a woman? No, I wouldn't be jealous at all. I'd just come right down there and bring you home!"

Spike laughed. "It's a bloke." He held the phone away from his ear. "Riley, say hi."

"Um…hello."

Spike put the phone back to his ear. "Happy now?"

"Yeah. Apart from the fact you're going to hang up on me."

"Sorry. I'll call tomorrow, okay?"

"You'd better. Take care of yourself. I miss you."

"I miss you too, Buffy. Night."

"Good night."

Spike severed the connection. "Sorry about that."

"It's okay." Riley walked over to his bed and sat on it. "That your girlfriend?"

Smiling, Spike nodded. "I guess she is." He'd never really thought about it like that. "You dating?"

Riley waited so long before answering that Spike wondered if the man was ever going to reply.

"No. My girlfriend couldn't handle it, so we split soon after it happened."

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright, probably for the best really." The tone of Riley's voice told Spike that it had hurt him badly…and still was.

After a pause, Riley continued, "So were you with…?"

"Buffy. Before the crash, you mean?"

"Yeah."

"No. Only met her a few weeks ago. I wasn't going steady back then, but my mates all sort of disappeared, so I sort of get where you're coming from."

Another silence ensued as both men reflected on the other losses their blindness had caused them.

"Spike?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't let Ted get to you."

"It wasn't just him. I knocked over the bloody water, then my dinner went all over the place. I just…I just hate it."

"You've got to eat."

"Well I lost my appetite, okay? Just leave it, yeah?"

"Hey, whatever you say, man." The bed frame creaked as Riley stood up. "I'm going down to the lounge or whatever they call it. You coming?"

"Nah. Think I'll just stay here for a bit."

Spike got the feeling that Riley was going to say something else, but after a pause, he heard the former soldier leave and close the door behind him.

_Way to go, Spike. _The little voice in his head said with distain. _Really gonna learn lots stuck up here in your room._

"Piss off," he muttered as he got up and made his way to the bathroom.

A few minutes later, freshly showered, he slipped between the cool sheets of his bed and tried, despite the early hour, to find sleep.

He failed.

When Riley returned several hours later, Spike feigned sleep to avoid having to talk to him. He listened to him getting ready for bed, and cringed when the man's wry voice murmured, "Night, Spike," before he got into bed.

Tomorrow would be easier, wouldn't it?

At breakfast time no one commented on Spike's absence the night before, and munching on toast he began to relax a little. The agenda that day was full of things to help them move towards independent living. And that was exactly why Spike was there, so it was with no small measure of annoyance that he found himself being led by Fred to her office.

She guided him to a chair before sitting opposite him.

"What happened last night, Spike?" Only her matter-of-fact voice kept Spike from yelling at her.

"Wasn't hungry." He sounded like a petulant child and knew it.

"I can't help you, if you won't talk to me."

"So don't help me." Spike made to rise.

"Sit down. You came here because you wanted something from the program that the facility offers, so why don't you just tell me what it is?"

With a sigh, Spike flopped back against the cushions. "I came because I want to be able to make myself a cup of tea."

"Oh."

Spike swore he heard Fred's eyebrows rise.

Laughing, he rubbed a hand over his face. "Stupid, isn't it?"

"Not at all. But I want you to tell me about last night at dinner."

"Didn't sign up to be psychoanalysed."

"Actually, you did."

"What's the point of any of it? I'm never going to be able to do even a sodding quarter of the things I want to be able to do."

"True, there will be things that you can't do. But things aren't as bleak as you feel they are."

"Easy for you to say. And for Ted. I'd give my right arm to have the vision he has. At least he can eat a meal without making a mess like a little kid."

"You were embarrassed." It wasn't a question.

"'Course I was. Learnt one thing already, Doc. I'm never going to eat in a restaurant again, that's for sure."

"Don't you think that's a bit of an exaggeration?"

"No! Why would I want to go out and let people see me like that? Christ." He shuddered.

"So you're worried about what people think of you?"

Spike frowned. "Who isn't?"

"Blindness isn't something to be ashamed of."

"It certainly isn't something to be proud of either."

"Maybe not. But it shouldn't define you as a person."

"Kind of hard not to let it." He slumped even lower in his seat at that admission.

"I understand how difficult it is to be completely without sight, but if you allow yourself to be open to what the program offers then you'll leave here much more capable and confident."

Straightening up a little, Spike said, "Pep talk over?"

"For now. What part of England are you from? My husband is English, from Oxford."

"Is he a bit posh then?"

Fred huffed. "His family were wealthy about a hundred years ago, but his grandfather gambled everything away, so Wesley was a professor at Cambridge University."

Spike chuckled. "Born in Oxford and lecturing at Cambridge…I bet that was popular."

"Apparently not." Fred laughed softly. "So when he was offered the chance to come out here, he leapt at it. We met just after I'd opened Sandar."

"Nice," Spike said, and meant it. "I'm from London. I miss it."

"Even the weather?" It was Fred's turn to laugh.

"Not so much. So…can I go now?"

With a sigh, Fred agreed. He was like a kid in the principal's room. He couldn't wait to get out.

"Please try to remain at the table during lunch and dinner."

"I'll try." He meant it, which came as a bit of a surprise to him.

"That's all I ask of you – to try your best."

She didn't guide him out of the room, just accurately described where the door was. Once out of Fred's office, Spike made his way to the lounge hoping to find the others.

By the end of the day, Spike had indeed learnt how to make himself a tea or coffee, managing to avoid scalding himself. He found it difficult to be pleased about it when the achievement seemed to emphasise all the other things that he would never do no matter what he learnt there.

Most of the others were friendly – Ted alone being the one people wanted to avoid – but Spike tended to keep himself to himself as much as possible. Only in Riley did he sense the same despair as his own. As far as he knew, Riley had called no one nor received any calls either. At least Spike had the daily chat to Buffy to look forward to.

At the end of the first week, family and friends were invited over for a barbeque in the gardens. To Spike's delight Buffy leapt at the chance to come, and now he was waiting for her arrival with his heart pounding in his chest.

He'd made Riley laugh by telling him of how he'd imagined her a porn star, but the man's mirth had died away a little when he'd heard how she hadn't realised Spike was blind at first. Spike kicked himself mentally for maybe making Riley think that no one would be attracted to a blind man – that she'd liked him before she knew that.

"Spike?" Cordelia's voice cut through his thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"Your guest has arrived." Spike grinned as he got to his feet. "And how did you manage to get such a pretty woman, Spike?"

Spike's grin faded. "What?"

"Oh! That didn't come out how I meant it. It's just you never told us how attractive she was." Cordelia desperately tried to back-track. She'd found the Englishman surly and prickly from day one and that made her uncomfortable.

"Kind of difficult to describe what someone looks like when you have never bloody seen them." He swore the others in the room could hear his teeth grinding.

"Spike, I'm sorry…I didn't mean…" But he was gone.

Familiar with the floor plan and confident that nothing was ever left in the corridors, Spike strode towards the entrance hall.

"Bu—"

Buffy all but threw herself at Spike, her lips finding his as a heat-seeking missile finds its target. Not caring they were in a public place, Spike kissed her back just as ardently, until panting for breath their lips finally parted.

"That was some hello." Spike's left hand caressed her cheek.

"I told you I've missed you. So where's all this sticky eat-with-your-fingers food?"

"Christ." Spike moaned at the memory of where eating such food normally took them – bed – usually before the food was finished. "You've got to behave.

Giggling, Buffy took Spike's hand in hers. "Aw…do I have to? Really?"

"Yes."

Spike was pleased with how firm his voice was. The only trouble was it wasn't the only part of him that was firm.

It was going to be a long afternoon.


	17. Chapter 17

Treading Water

Chapter Seventeen

Spike, now well used to the layout of Sandar, didn't take hold of Buffy's elbow but took her left hand in his right and led her towards the entrance to the garden. A smile played on his lips as she squeezed it. This was how it should be… holding her hand and taking her somewhere she didn't know. Even the tap of the cane as he used it to ensure he walked in a straight line didn't detract from the good feeling it gave.

"You seem happier than you were earlier in the week," said Buffy as she walked along.

"Yeah…well…" Spike resisted the urge to pull her into his arms and let her feel just how much happier he was. "Just needed to settle in, I guess."

"So, do you get along with your roommate?"

Spike nodded. "Yeah, he's okay. Doesn't say much, really."

"Are the others all okay? You never talk about them when I call."

"That's 'cause I want to hear about you, not them."

The murmur of conversation reached them.

"Nearly there. Sounds like the door's open," Spike said.

"Yes, it is." Buffy hesitated, suddenly nervous. "Uh…I hope I look alright."

Spike snorted. "You're meeting a bunch of blind people – I'm sure you look gorgeous, but doubt it'll matter too much."

She blushed furiously. "God, I can't believe I just said that! But in my defence, there will be others here, and I want…I want you to be proud of me."

Cocking his head as he turned his face to hers, he wished fervently that he could see her. His voice sounded a little hoarse as he said, "I'll always be proud of you, Buffy."

She leaned in and kissed him gently on the cheek. "Let's go mingle, then."

"Okay." He stepped through the doorway and onto the patio, his grip on her hand tightening as he could feel the attention moving their way.

"Welcome to Sandar Lodge. You must be Buffy. I'm Fred, the manager. I trust you found us okay?" Fred held out her hand and smiled kindly.

"Yes, great directions. Thank you." Buffy shook her hand.

"Now that you're here, we'll get the introductions out of the way." Fred walked a few steps away and clapped her hands. "Hello everybody, I hope you can all hear me."

Spike moved his hand to Buffy's elbow and whispered in her ear. "Take us somewhere near the back, yeah?"

"Okay." She led them deeper into the garden as Fred continued to speak.

"Firstly, let me thank you all for coming today. I know those staying with us have really looked forward to you all coming to visit. Every new intake brings new challenges for us as a facility and the pleasure I get when the course is over and they leave with their confidence is high off the scale. But I couldn't spend as much time here as I do without the support of my wonderful husband, Wesley."

She beckoned at a tall slim man dressed incongruously, for a barbeque, in a light grey suit.

"Come and say hello, darling."

A ragged burst of applause rang out as Wesley smiled and stepped up to stand beside his wife.

"Hello, everyone. I hope you have a lovely afternoon. I hope to be able to have a chat with you all before I leave as I have heard so much about you from Fred. I especially want to meet with my fellow countryman, Spike. Well, that's enough speechifying. I think the food will be served shortly. Enjoy."

Fred grabbed his hand and squeezed it, smiling at him and mouthing 'thank you.".

People began to spread out a little and a voice rang out close to Spike that made his heart drop to his boots. Ted.

"Well, well…you never said she was such a little beauty."

"Spike?" Buffy frowned.

"Uh…Buffy, meet Ted. He's in the program."

"But, if he's—"

"My vision is impaired enough for me to be categorised as blind. I have Best's Disease, but I can see well enough with peripheral vision to notice how pretty you are."

"Thanks." Buffy shifted uncomfortably as the man leered in her direction.

"And I can tell when your boyfriend here makes a mess at dinner, this one time he—"

"Buffy, I want you to meet Riley." Spike grabbed at her elbow with such force she winced.

Ted said, "But I want to tell—"

"Piss off."

Spike strode forward, bumping into Ted and half dragging Buffy rather than letting her lead him.

"Nice guy." Buffy's voice was laced with sarcasm.

"Yeah. Hate the git. Just needed to get away before I tried to punch him."

"It's okay. There's always at least one jerk wherever you go."

Buffy rubbed Spike's arm, but she could tell he'd lost his earlier good humour. He stopped, listened intently and then turned to the right.

"Riley's over here, I can hear him. Can you see anyone that looks like he was a soldier?"

She scanned over the people in that direction, her eyes coming to rest on a man standing with his back to her.

"I guess the really tall guy could be him. Got his back to us though. Talking to Fred."

"That'll be him. He's bloody enormous. We bumped into each other one time, I swear my head only hit his sodding belly."

Chuckling, Buffy guided Spike towards them. Fred smiled as they approached.

"Hello, Spike. Buffy. I'll just go check where that food is."

"Spike?" Riley turned around, his mirrored shades glinting in the sun.. "I hope you're going to introduce me properly."

"Sure. This is my girlfriend," Spike's smile got broader as he said it, "Buffy Summers. Buffy, this is my roomie, Riley Finn."

Riley held out his hand for Buffy to shakeand after a pause Buffy took it.

"Pleased to meet you, Riley."

"Nice to meet you finally, Spike talks about you all the time."

"Hey, I do not!" Spike said, his voice full of humour.

Smiling broadly, Riley added, "Maybe not all the time – just a lot of the time."

"Glad to hear it." Buffy leaned over and dropped a kiss on Spike's cheek.

She glanced around the gathering as the two men chatted, noticing that about half of the people on the program sported dark glasses. She realised how lucky Spike was in having no outward sign of the damage to his sight.

Deciding she'd better join in the conversation, so craned her head back to look at Riley and said, "So where are you from?"

"Iowa. But haven't been back in a while. Was serving in Afghanistan when…" He gestured to his face. "Been in hospital and the rehab centres until I came here."

"Gosh, that must be awful. Didn't you just want to go home?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Riley shook his head. "Not really anything to go home for."

"I'm sorry."

Riley took a deep breath. "Don't be. I'm sorry for bringing the mood down."

"It's alright, mate," said Spike. "I know where you're coming from."

Buffy put a hand on both Riley and Spike's arms. "We need to get this party started! Why is there no music?"

"Don't think it's that type of party, Buff," said Spike.

"Thank God for that," Riley said. "Makes me break out in a sweat at the thought of dancing and that includes before… Being so tall, I was never the lightest on my feet."

They all laughed. Riley rubbed a hand over his face, dislodging his sunglasses. He bent to try to find them, but Buffy was too quick.

"I'll get them." She plucked them from the grass and stood up, reaching out to find his hand with hers. "Here you are…"

"Thanks."

Riley ducked his head, but it was too late, she'd seen what had previously been hidden and her heart lurched with sympathy for him.

"No problem."

Scowling, Spike put a hand on the small of her back. Her voice sounded thin and tight. "You okay, love?"

"Of course I'm okay!" Now her voice was a little too bright. "Er…"

"It's okay, Buffy. I know how I must look."

"Riley, I didn't mean—"

"Don't sweat it. Look, I'll leave you to it. I think the food's coming." Riley jabbed the sunglasses back on as he abruptly turned away and walked towards the patio.

"What's going on, Buffy?"

"I'm sorry…it just took me by surprise."

"What did?"

"There's a bench over there, let's go sit on it."

Puzzled and beginning to feel a little angry at her reaction to the man he'd begun to consider a friend, Spike allowed her to guide him to the seat.

"Come on. Tell me." His fingers found her thigh and he kept them there.

"I feel so bad for him. Behaving like that. God, I'm an awful person."

"Buffy…?"

She turned to stare at Spike. "You don't know. No one has told you, have they?"

"Told me what?" Spike's frown cleared as understanding dawned. "Oh. He was injured in an attack. Is he scarred?"

Putting her hand over Spike's she shifted closer to him. "He is scarred, but Spike, he has lost his eyes."

"Shite…the poor bastard. He said his girlfriend left him 'cause she couldn't deal…"

"And I go and act like an insensitive bitch."

"Hey. You didn't mean it."

"Doesn't make it any nicer for him, does it? That I didn't mean it."

She turned to see where Riley had gone and spotted him talking with Wesley, but his whole demeanour told her that he was just waiting for the chance to escape.

"Hasn't anyone come to visit with him today?" she asked.

Spike shook his head. "No. He said his family were too far away to come."

"I'll go get us some food. Be right back."

"Buffy, I not really…very hungry," he said into empty air as she strode across the garden.

He closed his eyes, trying unsuccessfully not to imagine the pain that Riley must have gone through.

Wesley was moving away from Riley as Buffy got to them and the former soldier stepped towards the door.

"Riley."

Buffy put her hand on his arm, an act that usually prompted Spike to turn his face towards her. Riley's shoulders hunched and he dipped his head.

"Look, you already apologised. I just need to—"

"Have something to eat with us." She increased the grip on his arm. "Please?"

"Sure I won't put you off your meal you won't lose your appetite?"

The bitter tone brought a tear to Buffy's eye. "I deserved that, I guess. But I meant it. Please join us for something to eat."

She could see him trying to decide how to get away without actually prising her fingers off his arm.

"Please. I'd like you to. Spike would like you to."

"I don't need your pity."

"God you sound just like Spike! It's not pity! I know Spike's stay here is better because of you being his roomie, so let me get to know you over some ribs."

Still the man hesitated, but finally with a sigh he nodded and allowed her to lead him back to Spike.

"Now you two stay there while I get the food."

As she left, Riley said, "Is she always like this?"

"What? Bossy? Pretty much." After an uncomfortable silence, he reached out and found Riley's shoulder. "I'm really sorry, mate."

Riley stiffened under his touch. "You knew I was totally blind already. Don't need your sympathy because I look like a freaking monster."

"Don't say that!" Buffy's strident voice made both men jump. She cupped Riley's face with her hands. "You are a hero, who has been injured in the line of duty for his country. You are not a monster."

"But my face…" Riley's voice hitched, and Buffy gritted her teeth that her own initial reaction had caused this.

"I won't lie to you, Riley. I was a little shocked and I'm sorry for upsetting you. But please don't think of yourself that way."

Riley sat up straighter, moving his face away from her hands. "I'll just—"

"Bit of advice, Ri. Just shut up and stay where you are. She'll not stop until you do as she says. I should know." He grinned in what he hoped was Buffy's direction. "And do I smell fried onions?"

"Yes, I came back with your food." She bent to pick up the platces from the grass. "Here you are. Riley, I'll understand if you'd rather I didn't stay here. I can leave you just with Spike if you like?"

"No," Riley's voice was resigned. "That's fine. A woman who brings me burgers can't be all bad, eh?"

The laughter they shared helped to make the awkwardness pass.

Little escaped the eagle eyes of the staff of Sandar Lodge. It was their job to identify exactly what each person on the program struggled with and help them deal with it. With Spike, eating with the others still appeared to be an ordeal despite the advice he'd been given on how to avoid making a mess. Otherwise, Spike's progress was good. The kitchen they used in training became familiar to him and he'd managed to prepare simple dishes.

So when Fred asked Spike to come to her office before dinner, she knew that she wasn't going to be popular.

"No way!" Spike got up from the chair. "Thanks for your help with stuff, but this…this…" He threw his arms up in air.

"Is that a no then?"

Fred's amused tone of voice had Spike scowling furiously. "Damn right, it's a bloody no." He snatched at the door handle, all but growling when he missed it and had to fumble until he found it.

"Shame," she said, as he opened the door. "I suppose Buffy won't mind eating alone."

"What?"

"Oh? I'm sorry; did you think that I wanted to dine with you tonight?"

Spike nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Surely you realise that I know you quite well by now?" Fred laughed softly. "I know that dinner with me wouldn't be enough to make you accept the challenge, so I called Buffy and she was happy to stand in for me."

"Crafty sod."

"Perhaps I am. Are you going to let Buffy eat alone, or will you be ready when the car picks you up in an hour?"

Squeezing his eyes shut and counting to ten in his mind, Spike sighed and said, "I'll be ready."

"Thank you."

"Hmmph." Spike closed the door with a bang and stomped up to his bedroom, knowing he'd been played.

"Hey, what did Fred want? Is everything okay?"

"I'm going out to dinner." Spike threw his cane on the bed. "Car's coming in an hour."

"I'm sensing you're not happy about this?" Riley tried to make his voice serious but didn't quite manage it.

"Don't you bloody take the pissy join in." Spike joined his cane on the bed. "She's arranged for Buffy to go to a restaurant and if I don't show…"

"She sits there on her own," supplied Riley.

"Exactly."

"Clever."

"Yeah, the bloody cow."

"But you know she's right, don't you? The only reason you can't eat out is what's going on in your head."

"Don't start. I thought you were my mate."

Riley laughed. "Stop worrying about it and get ready to go on a date with your girl."

An awkward little silence was broken by Spike announcing that he was going for a shower. Once under the flow of the water, Spike cursed himself under his breath for being such a coward when Riley had to face his new life knowing his girlfriend had left him because of his injuries.

Riley had gone down to dinner by the time Spike emerged from the bathroom, his still damp hair slicked back from his forehead as he'd tamed the curls with gel. The jeans were always going to be black, but Spike felt at the labels in his shirts to find a blue one.

By the time he climbed into the car that was to take him to the restaurant, his heart was pounding in his chest. Was it because of the ordeal he had to face, or was it because the chauffeur had told him that the restaurant was in a well known hotel and that Fred had also booked them a room for the night? Apart from a few stolen kisses at the barbeque and on her subsequent weekly visits, they'd had no opportunity to spend time alone.

"We're here, sir," the chauffeur said after about thirty minutes. "I'll take you to your table."

Spike muttered his thanks as he took the man's arm and allowed him to lead him inside. No matter what he said during sessions of the course, he found this reliance on others almost impossible to handle.

They paused for a moment before a haughty male voice asked if they had a table.

"Uh…I do. Name of Pratt."

"Your guest is already seated, sir. It's just this way."

Spike gritted his teeth as the chauffeur continued to guide him along.

"Spike! You made it!" Buffy said when she saw him approaching.

Once her arms wrapped around him, he forgot about anything but being with her. He buried his face in her hair, breathing in the fresh scent of her shampoo.

"Did you think I wouldn't come?" he whispered against her ear.

"I knew you would."

The two men melted away like the professionals they were, leaving the couple to their greeting.


	18. Chapter 18

Treading Water

Chapter Eighteen

As Spike finally sat in the chair, it was all he could do not to pull the woman down onto his lap and keep her there. Instead, he held her hand for as long as he could whilst she took her own seat opposite him at the small round table.

A waiter materialised and offered a menu to Buffy, who took it with a smile, anxiously watching Spike's expression. His mouth set in a resigned line, but he didn't tense up, or begin to close down as would have been the case before his participation in the program at Sandar.

"Do you know what sort of thing you'd like to eat? Or do you want me to read the whole menu?"

His left hand fiddled with the cutlery, and she reached out to touch it, stilling its nervous motions.

"You can miss out the section for salads," he said with a grin that wasn't entirely forced.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" She giggled and squeezed his fingers.

"Is this place really posh?"

Buffy glanced around the room. "Well, it is very nice."

"No, I mean the menu?" He could almost hear her frown, so added, "Is it likely to be one of those places where you eat a three course meal and then need to stop for a burger on the way home?"

"Maybe."

His grin was genuine now. "So what starters have they got?"

Buffy read the menu in a voice that would reach only his ears and he was grateful for it. He opted for the soup, whilst Buffy chose the pate. Now for the main course. He listened intently, with each dish he mentally assessed how easy it would be to eat rather than think of the possible taste of it. Medallions of beef, with creamy mashed potatoes and green vegetables fit the bill, though he almost changed it for the chicken in a white wine sauce that Buffy opted for.

The waiter must have been hovering close-by as he reappeared as soon as Buffy put the menu on the table.

"May I take your order now?"

Expecting Buffy to reel it off, Spike's feelings for her went up a notch as he realised she was waiting for him to give the order.

"Yes… er… For the starters we'd like…"

It was stupid how it made him feel like a man to be able to say what food they wanted. When he'd finished, the waiter asked if they would like some wine.

"Buffy?"

"I only really like rose."

Spike who would have preferred a beer, nodded, "Rose it is then."

"Thank you, sir. I will be back with it momentarily."

"Uh…before you go…" Spike swallowed the pride that threatened to keep him silent. "With my main course, can you please ask the chef to plate it up, so the meat is at the front and the potatoes to the back left, and the veg to the right?"

"Certainly, sir. No problem at all." The man nodded to Buffy and walked away.

"How's Riley?" Buffy asked.

"Now we're coming to the end of the program, he seems a bit quiet. Like he doesn't want it to end."

"Unlike you who can't wait to get out of Sandar."

"Yeah. I mean, I'm glad I did it, and it's helped a lot, but I want to get home all the same."

"I want you to come home too." Buffy smiled.

"Good. But the thing is…I don't know if Ri has really got anywhere to go. He doesn't seem to be in contact with his folks. The army was his life and with his girlfriend out of the picture…"

"That's so sad." She rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand.

"At the barbecue he said he'd been in hospital and rehab facilities since he got injured, I don't think he's been home at all. Makes me feel bad for moping about feeling sorry for myself."

"Spike, don't be so hard on yourself. You still had to deal with a major trauma."

He shrugged. "Yeah, but all the time I had people looking out for me. I know Mum drives me insane half—well, most of the time, but least she took me in. Rupert's been great, getting me anything I need. And I met you, which I would never have done if it hadn't happened, so…"

He paused. So what? Could he honestly say that if it came to the choice of sight and no Buffy or blind with her in his life, that he would opt for what he had now?

Fortunately, he was saved from his deep thoughts by the waiter's return with the wine.

"Would you like to taste it, sir?"

"Uh…okay…not sure I've got a good palate for it though…I'm more of a beer kind of guy."

The waiter laughed softly. "At least you will be able to tell me if you like it or not."

Deciding he liked the waiter, Spike grinned. "That's true."

The waiter poured some wine into a glass and held it out.

"Here you are, sir."

Feeling a little self-conscious, Spike reached out with his right hand as the waiter was on that side and Buffy still held his left. The glass was pressed into his hand, and he nodded with gratitude. He hadn't had wine since his accident and he smiled as its bouquet reached his nose. It smelled of cherries and…summer. Holding back a laugh at how he sounded like one of those daft TV wine tasters, he took a sip. It tasted exactly how it smelled. He told the waiter it was nice and took another mouthful.

"Why are you smiling so broadly?" Buffy asked.

"You don't want to know." Spike's expression was so blatantly sexual that she blushed.

"Uh…you're right…I don't think I do. Not right now, anyhow."

"Do we really have to stay and eat?"

Buffy kicked his shin. "Stop it. And yes we do."

"Spoilsport."

"I know."

"So what colour are you wearing tonight? I know its silk, from our hug. I must look scruffy next to you."

"You don't look scruffy at all. That shirt is lovely. And I don't know what I'd think of you if you weren't in your black jeans. Wouldn't look right somehow. My dress is light blue."

"Like the summer sky?"

"Yes! Exactly like that. You know how pale it is when it gets really hot."

"Buff, you do know I spent most of my life in England, don't you?" said Spike, delighting in making her laugh. "But I think I can recall a few really hot days… I bet you look beautiful…" He took a deep breath as the fact he'd never see her once more hit home, then he managed a smirk, "Bet you'll look even more beautiful when you're naked upstairs la—ow!"

Buffy's foot found his ankle this time. "I told you to stop with the naughty behaviour."

"Okay, okay, I'll stop…just leave my poor legs alone, or I'll be limping by the time I get up from the table."

The starters arrived and the pair reluctantly let go of each other's hands whilst they ate. Buffy fed Spike some of her pate, and Spike managed to survive eating the soup without spilling it down his shirt.

Their wine glasses were replenished before they could ever fall empty. Spike took care to slow down his drinking, not keen on getting inebriated at the dinner table. When the water brought the main courses, he set Spike's down in front of him taking care to have it the correct way around for him.

"I hope you enjoy it, sir. You've picked one of our most popular dishes."

"Smells gorgeous," Spike said, as he picked up his knife and fork. "Thanks."

Alone again, they talked about how the store was doing, how Willow and Oz were getting along, and how well The Dingoes were playing at the moment. The one thing they didn't touch on was Spike's plans when he returned home.

The meal was almost over when Spike realised that he'd spent the evening eating wonderful food, chatting to his beautiful girlfriend and for the most part, not caring what others might be thinking of him or whether they were staring at him or not.

Fred had been right when she'd said he was embarrassed by his lack of sight. Now he knew just how stupid that was, especially when he compared himself to the life that faced Riley. Buffy hadn't said much about the scars on the man's face, but he knew from her tone of voice that they were bad. He decided that he had a hell of a lot to be grateful for and vowed to try to leave the self-pity behind.

By the time dessert was on the table, Buffy was teasing Spike by rubbing her foot up against his leg. Not kicking him this time, rather beginning the seduction that they would continue in the bedroom. When she saw how much Spike liked it, she slipped off her sandal and let her foot roam a little higher.

"Jeez, woman," Spike muttered under his breath as he pushed her foot away from his groin. "Let's get the bill before you drive me insane."

Pulling back her foot, Buffy beckoned to their waiter. "May we have the check please?"

"The cost will be added to the room, madam, so you have no need to pay right now."

"Oh…great. Thanks." She slipped her sandal back on and stood up as the waiter moved away. "Come on, time to find our room."

She touched his shoulder and he got up, reaching out to take her elbow and flicking out his white cane so he could make sure he didn't trip over anything.

"Best suggestion you've had all night."

Trusting Buffy implicitly, Spike's stride didn't falter as they walked out to the foyer to use one of the elevators. When the doors closed and the elevator began to rise, Spike reached up to caress Buffy's face, before leaning in for a hungry kiss. He knew they were alone in it and so let his other hand trace her silk-covered curves.

"God, you have no idea what power you have over me," he said, pressing her against the wall. "I just can't resist you."

Buffy said nothing in reply, just kissed him so hard their lips bruised and let one hand slide over the hardness contained in his jeans. His eyes squeezed shut, and he thought horrid thoughts to keep from losing control. Her touch drove him wild and the enforced celibacy he'd endured whilst at Sandar only heightened his emotions.

With a ping, the doors slid open, and the pair jumped guiltily apart on hearing a gasp. Buffy grabbed Spike's hand and pulled him out of the elevator, past the elderly couple, and they both began to laugh. Their room was just a few yards away. Buffy slid the keycard through the slot and then led Spike inside.

Without even thinking of what she was doing, she told Spike where everything was, opening the bathroom door as they passed so he could remember how far from the bed it was. Spike wasn't the only one to have learned things from Sandar Lodge. Buffy had asked Fred what she could do to help Spike without it bugging him, and she would always be grateful to the woman for her advice.

"I'm just going to freshen u—"

Spike pulled her down onto the bed with him. "Don't need to. You'll only need to do it all again in a few minutes."

Buffy laughed and kissed him. "A few minutes…? Is that all?" She rubbed her hand over the zipper in his jeans, causing him to moan and thrust up to her touch.

"Few bloody seconds at this rate, if you keep that up."

Her hands moved to the button and then opened the zipper, touching his still cloth covered erection.

"Since when do you wear boxers?"

"Since I'm sharing a room and living at a bloody facility where everyone knows everything that goes on. Not having housekeeping telling that I don't have any bloody underpants in the wash basket."

"Not good." Buffy laughed. "Even more to get off before I can touch you."

With comical speed, Spike wriggled out of his jeans, pulling the boxers down with them. "What was that you were saying, Miss Still-got-all-her clothes-on?"

The bed moved as she stood up, then he heard the hiss of a zipper before a rustle of silk told him the dress was now on the carpet. She crawled over to where he lay flat on his back on the bed.

"That better?"

His hands unerringly found her breasts, gently massaging them, his thumbs rubbing over the nipples. Once again she was struck by just how much sexual experience he must have had, but she didn't feel jealous of his past lovers, just grateful that she was reaping the benefits of what they had taught him.

She straddled him, purposely trapping his cock so it had no hope of entry. The anguished moan and shifting of his hips told her she'd achieved what she wanted.

"What was it you said about me having power over you?"

She nipped at his lips, and pressed her hands down over his wrists, pinning them to the bed. Even knowing that he was strong enough to throw her off if he'd wanted to, didn't stop a thrill going through his body at her words. God, how he loved an assertive lover.

"I said, you have no idea of what affect you have on me."

She ground her body against his, causing them both to moan. "Oh, I think I do."

His hands flew to cup her face as soon as she relinquished her hold on him. He leaned up and met her lips with his own. Then traced feather-soft kisses over her cheek and up to her eyes, feeling her lashes tickle as he kissed the closed lids.

A shift of her hips enabled Spike to penetrate her. Without another word being spoken, they fell into a rhythm that wouldn't be denied. It lasted longer than seconds, but was still minutes short of an hour when they both cried out their release, and collapsed to lie panting side by side on the king-sized bed.

"That was…" Buffy began but stopped, unable to find the words to do it justice.

Fortunately Spike understood what she meant and answered eloquently, "Yeah…I mean…"

He raised his right arm, inviting her into his embrace, wrapping it around her shoulders when she snuggled in to lay her head on his chest. The question that had floated across his mind at dinner reappeared but this time he knew the answer. With Buffy his blindness didn't matter. She'd never known him with sight. When he was with her he felt whole, undamaged and hopeful of the future.

He'd worried his feelings were because he was grateful that someone took pity on him and spent time with him. But the more he knew Buffy, the more certain he was that his feelings had nothing to do with gratitude, just as he knew her feelings for him were not based in pity.

Listening to her breathing soften and even out as she fell asleep, he dropped a kiss on the top of her head and whispered the words he'd never uttered before.

"I love you."


	19. Chapter 19

Treading Water

Chapter Nineteen

"Ow! What the hell…?" Spike rolled off the bed, his hand pressed to his groin, trying without effect to ease the agonising pain.

"Spike?" Buffy blinked blearily. "What are you doing down there?"

"What do you mean what am I doing down here? You've just socked me in the bloody nuts."

"I've what?"

With a groan, Spike crawled back on the bed. "I'm guessing you didn't do it on purpose?" He groaned again as her small hand rested lightly on his throbbing balls.

"Now why would I, after the things they did last night?"

Spike didn't need to see to know there was a wicked gleam in her eyes.

"Well they're not up to much now…not after the bashing they've just suffered. Have to say it wasn't the best way to wake up." He pushed his lips out into a pout that Buffy promptly kissed.

"Better go say I'm sorry."

She wriggled beneath the covers until her hot breath blew on his tender flesh.

"I hope you're really, really sorry," said Spike, a grin threatening to split his face in two.

In reply, Buffy licked the head of his now quivering erection. Spike's hands found her sleep-tousled hair, his fingers twisting through it as Buffy worked on bringing him to completion.

Laughing at the sight of Spike lying as if boneless when she emerged from the covers, Buffy snuggled against his side.

"Feeling better now?"

"Hell, yes. Give me a minute and I'll return the favour."

"It's okay, you can owe me one. I don't want to miss my breakfast."

"Thought you'd just had it!" Spike hauled her on top of him, laughing.

"Spike!" She slapped ineffectually at his hands, but his grip around her waist was relentless.

When she stopped struggling, he eased his grasp and began to tickle instead. Buffy shrieked, begging him to stop. He ceased only when she gasped for breath.

"Don't suppose breakfast in bed was included in the deal you struck with Fred, was it?"

Buffy shook her head. "No, sorry. It's got to be taken in the restaurant. But if you really don't want to…I won't tell."

"No, we'll go down." He grinned. "I reckon sitting there letting people know I spent the night with you won't do my ego any harm."

"Same here."

Sobering, Spike asked, "Really?"

"Really. Spike, you must know you're hot looking."

"But—"

"Intelligent."

"But—"

"Fun to be with."

"But—"

"And, it has to be said, an amazing lover."

He quirked a brow. "Amazing, huh?"

"I thought that one would shut you up. I know what you were going to say, and if you think it matters to me, then perhaps I'd better leave now."

"I can tell by the tone of your voice you don't mean to leave."

"Damn…see I can't even hide my emotions from you."

Spike grinned and shrugged. "Nope. I can tell when you're smiling. Like now."

His fingers reached up and traced the outline of her lips. "You're so beautiful."

"Quit it! Or we'll never get down to breakfast."

They did make breakfast – just. A joint shower proved to take a little longer than anticipated and Buffy blushed at the sideways glances they attracted as they took a table. It was obvious what they'd been up to just moments before.

"Hope they do a fry-up here," said Spike rubbing his hands together.

"They do scrambled eggs and bacon."

He grimaced. "Haven't had a proper breakfast since I left England."

"Ugh, all that grease. How can you even think of eating that stuff?"

"I'm English. It's genetic. We like greasy breakfasts, warm beer, and football. Our kind, not the sort where you have to wear a sodding helmet."

"You make England sound so attractive." Buffy chuckled and reached out to touch his hand just as the waitress approached.

"Are you ready to order yet?"

Spike squeezed Buffy's fingers. "What do you want?"

"I think I'll have pancakes, please. With maple syrup."

"And sir?"

"I'll have the same."

"Certainly, sir. Any drinks?"

Buffy opted for juice and Spike decided on a cup of tea. When the waitress walked away, Buffy apologised for not reading out the menu, but Spike waved her off.

"'S okay, love. I wouldn't have said pancakes if I didn't fancy some."

When their breakfasts arrived they chatted amiably as they ate. Buffy teased him about calling her love, and Spike tried to explain it away as a term used in England even to total strangers. She didn't believe him.

"Don't want to go back to Sandar…not after being here with you." Spike dipped his head, his fingers pushing the cutlery this way and that.

"It's only another week and then you'll be home. Oz can't wait to play you a couple of new songs he's written, and to get you back on stage playing your guitar."

He rubbed his fingertips together. "Fred said if I want to be able to read Braille I need to cut down on how much I play due to the calluses that it causes."

"Oh." Buffy didn't know what else to say. She knew how much he loved his guitar, but she also knew how much he missed being able to read.

"Yeah, sucks, doesn't it? But with all the gizmos you can get for the computer, I reckon not being able to read Braille very well won't matter so much."

"And there'll always be me…"

Spike raised his head sharply at her words, and Buffy would have sworn those blue eyes really met hers as he gaped at her.

"Always, huh?" he said, his voice a little croaky.

"Does that sound too long for you?"

He shook his head and twisted his fingers through hers. "Sounds great."

Reluctantly, they left the hotel fifty minutes later. Buffy gave Spike a ride back to Sandar Lodge before heading back to Sunnydale. Standing there, listening to the sound of the car's engine slowly fade away, Spike realised how truly lucky he still was. He flicked out his cane and walked slowly up to his room.

xoxoxox

The last day at Sandar had everyone in a party mood. The hurdles the people on the course had faced on their arrival had, for the most part, been overcome. Everyone packed their bags after breakfast, and then were to congregate in the lounge.

"I suppose being used to having to keep things so neat in the army means it's sort of second nature for you to be organised now," Spike said to Riley as he fumbled on the floor for a sock he'd dropped. "I used to be a right messy git. Now look at me."

They no longer reacted badly to words like look and see, as they had when they'd arrived. Riley laughed and zipped his case shut.

"Yeah. You're real organised. How long have you been trying to find that sock?"

"Sod off," Spike said it without heat, a smile playing at his lips. "You know you could help me rather than standing there all smug."

"Well now, if I moved, then you'd be sure to find it."

Spike straightened up. "What do you mean?"

Laughing louder, Riley shifted his foot and flicked the sock towards Spike hoping it would hit him. It did. "Means I've had my foot on it since you dropped it."

"You git." Spike bent to pick the offending item and shoved it in his suitcase. "So when are you going to tell me where you're going when you leave here?"

"It's been bugging you all week, hasn't it?"

"Yeah. Just don't know why it's the big secret. I told you if you were stuck you could come stay with me for a while."

"I know and I'm grateful, but I've got something planned, just don't want to say anything until it's all confirmed."

"Fair enough." Spike shrugged. "Suppose we'd better go down. One thing's for sure, I'm not going to miss being around bloody Ted."

"I pity his poor wife."

"Ugh! Don't! I'm having images in my head I really don't want to see."

The pair was still chuckling as they entered the lounge.

"Ah…here they are," said Fred as soon as she saw them. "Spike there's a chair to the left and Riley if you can come up to me."

Spike plonked himself down in his chair, wondering why Riley was going up with Fred.

Fred smiled as she watched the tall man walk towards her with his head held high, no longer hunching over to try to become as invisible to the sighted as they were to him. His confidence had grown, though he still had a ways to go before he'd be totally at ease with those he knew could see his scars, despite his habitual use of dark glasses.

She took his hand when she reached him. "For a time now, we've been searching for another member of staff. Someone who can identify on a personal level, just what our new intake are going through, and I'm delighted to say that Riley has agree to join the team here at Sandar. He'll be living on site in one of the cabins in the grounds, and I'm certain he'll be a great addition to the team here at Sandar Lodge.

Riley, would you like to say something?"

"Er…well…"

"Get on with it!" Spike yelled, causing everyone to laugh and tell him to be quiet in equal measures.

Riley grinned. "When I came to Sandar, I felt my life had no meaning any more – no purpose." Several nodded their heads and murmured their agreement. "But I realised my life is not over. Okay, it's changed dramatically, but it can still be good. I can still be useful. When Fred approached me about joining the staff, I didn't have to think too long before I said yes. I know the affect being here has had on me and you guys too, so to be a part of that…to help people when maybe they're feeling lost or worthless, that's got to be a great way to earn a living."

Applause rang out around the room when he finished speaking, and the others got to their feet to go over to congratulate him. Spike waited until Riley made his way over to where he knew Spike was sitting.

"I'm pleased for you, mate. I really am." Spike reached out to touch Riley's arm, but grunted as the big man pulled him into a hug. "I'm English – we don't hug! Gerrof me you great lummox!"

Riley released his hold on him with a chuckle. "So do you think you'll come back to visit, or once you're free of this place is that it – never coming back?"

"I'll come back now! And you'll have to come over to good ole Sunnyd, yeah? Maybe come listen to the Dingoes play?"

"That'd be cool."

"Right, enough of the male bonding shit…I thought Fred said there was going to be cake?" Spike said.

"For someone as skinny as you, you sure do eat an awful lot of sugary foods."

"Firstly, I am not skinny, I prefer athletic."

"I bet you do," muttered Riley.

"What was that?" Spike frowned.

"Oh, nothing. Go on. I have a feeling there was more…there usually is."

"Hey! Cut it out! And I was going to say you sound like my bloody mother!"

"Gee, thanks."

"Can we go find the cake now?"

Shaking his head, Riley walked next to Spike as they went to find the table laden with food.

"You're what?" Drusilla's shrill voice rang out. Her promise to Rupert to allow Spike time to settle in without smothering him or arguing with him broke with an almost audible snap. "You can get that idea out of your head, right this instant! I will not allow it."

Spike sighed, folded his arms across his chest and said, "Mum. I've made my decision. Nothing you say will make me change my mind. I'd really like your support, but I'm going to do it whether you give it or not."

"It's that place, isn't it? This is all their fault. If you'd never gone there—"

"You're right. If I'd never gone there, I wouldn't have be capable of doing this. You should be pleased for me. Hell, it's not as if I said I was going back to London."

Dru threw her arms in the air. "Oh, please, promise me you'll stay close by. I couldn't bear it…"

"It's okay. I want to stay local. But closer to town." He let his arms fall to his sides. "Can't you be happy for me, Mum? I'm nearly twenty-five. I should have my own place. I need my own place."

Closing the space between them in two long strides, Drusilla enveloped Spike in a hug. "Promise me if it doesn't work out, that you'll come home. That you won't be too proud to admit it."

He wrapped his arms around his mother's small waist. "I promise. But it will work out." Spike thought of Buffy. "It has to work out."

He needed to prove to himself that he wouldn't be a burden for Buffy if they had a future together, and getting his own place was part of that.

Drusilla cupped his face in her palms. "You will always have a home here, no matter what." She kissed her son's forehead, moving her hands to grasp one of his. "And you must spend the holidays here, and…"

Grinning, Spike allowed her to lead him out of his room and into the garden. Perhaps she hadn't actually said it, but his mother had let him know in her own odd way, that he had her blessing.


	20. Chapter 20

Apologies for the delay in posting. Been on holiday!

**Treading Water**

**Chapter Twenty**

"Well, what do you think?" Rupert said as the realtor left them alone in the living room of the sixth apartment they'd checked out.

He'd had to watch Spike force a bland expression on his face at the tactless remarks from some of the realtors. So far the previous places all had at least one negative to prevent them from taking it any further, but Rupert thought this small apartment might just be the one.

Spike paused before replying. "I like it."

"Enough to go ahead with the rental?"

"I think so. I mean, it's in a good location, the layout is easy to remember, and I like the little private paved yard. Does it need any work?" He grinned. "It's not painted pink or anything, is it?"

Rupert laughed. "No, it's in very good order. Neutral tones throughout." He walked over to the man he thought of as his son. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Don't you start on at me. Bad enough mum keeps blowing hot and cold about me moving out without you doing it too."

Putting a hand on Spike's shoulder, Rupert said, "I just want you to be certain that you're ready for this."

"I know. I know." Spike turned his face towards Rupert. "But, yeah, I am sure. It's something I've got to do and I am only renting. If it all goes tits up, I can come home with my tail between my legs."

"Good grief, you really do have a way with words." He squeezed Spike's shoulder before letting his hand fall to his side. "I'm sure you'll be fine. I know this may sound rather lame, and I've said it before, but I am proud of you. You're working hard to get back your independence and it's paying off. Just remember, if you need anything, all you need to do is ask, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, Rupert."

Rupert nodded curtly. "Now shall we get the paperwork started?"

Spike's face split into a grin. "Why not!"

An hour later, the agreements were signed and they could pick up the keys the next day.

The flat had been leased unfurnished and with Rupert's, and - to a lesser extent – his mother's help, Spike furnished it with items that made it comfortable yet still easy to navigate. He'd cursed himself when Rupert gently prompted him to get a couple of table lamps, one for the living room and one for the bedside cabinet, to ensure Spike's sighted guests didn't only have to use the ceiling lights.

When he spent his first night there, he played his guitar. Lyrics came from nowhere to the tune that had been in his head for a while. It was rough and he doubted he'd ever share it with anyone, but it made him feel whole and positive about his future.

xoxoxox

Spike drove Buffy crazy by not allowing her to come to the apartment until he'd been living there for a week. Finally invited over, she pressed her thumb to the buzzer to the intercom for his home.

"Spike?"

She'd barely got the word out before Spike replied. Not that he'd be hovering near the intercom for the past fifteen minutes or anything.

"Hi. Come on in. I'm the first door on the right."

He rubbed his palms on his jeans and walked over to perch on the arm of the deep red leather sofa, having left the door ajar.

Buffy rapped on the door then walked in.

"Hey, you." She crossed the space between them in three long strides and firmly planted a kiss on his mouth.

Wrapping his arms around her, he murmured in her ear, "God, I've missed you."

She laughed. "We were together yesterday."

"So…I still missed you."

"Yeah, me too." She took his hand in hers. "So do I get the tour?"

"It won't take long." He waved his free hand around. "This is the living room, obviously."

Buffy cast her eyes around the space, taking in the red rug that went well with the sofa and the lamp on the low side table, illuminating the room with a soft yellow light. To her surprise, there was a print on the wall behind the sofa, and a small flat plasma screen TV stood in one corner.

As if he had been able to see her eyes widen in surprise, Spike said, "I got the telly, 'cause I thought you might like to watch it when you're here, and I can listen to MTV on it."

Just hearing him sound so matter-of-fact about his blindness brought a lump to her throat. Sandar had done him so much good.

"Can't think of anything I'd like better than snuggling up with you on this big sofa."

Spike grinned. "That's a shame, 'cause I was going to show you my bedroom next."

"You are so bad!" Buffy bumped shoulders with him. "But, yes, I want to see the bedroom."

She allowed Spike to lead her over to a door at the rear of the living room. "This is it. What do you think? Bloody Rupert really took the piss when I said I wanted a king –sized bed."

Pulling him further inside, Buffy giggled when they reached the bed. "Let's try it out."

"No time. Dinner's nearly rea—" A loud buzzer sounded. "Correction. Dinner is ready."

"Shame." Buffy kissed him and rubbed her hand over his jeans clad groin.

Spike groaned. "Jeez, quit it. I spent half the bloody day in the kitchen. Not to mention this." He held up a finger, its tip covered with a blue band-aid.

"Ooh, poor baby."

"Piss off." His grin belied the harsh words. "Come on. You can sit at the table while I dish up."

Hand in hand they walked through to the kitchen/dining room. A similar size to the living room, one end was fitted with cupboards. The marble effect work surfaces glinted under the lights that Spike had flicked on as they walked in. The end nearest the door had a round wooden dining table, with four matching chairs. It was set for two people. Faultlessly laid out, Buffy had a surge of pride that he'd been able to do it.

"Are you sure you don't want me to help?"

Spike snorted. "You? In the kitchen? That really would be the blind leading the blind."

"Hey!"

They dissolved into laughter until Spike managed to pull himself together enough to take the casserole out of the oven. He measured his strides to the dining table and placed it only slightly off centre on the table, before going back for the potatoes baked in their jackets that had also been in the oven.

Buffy watched, fascinated, while he placed one on each plate and sliced a cross on each with his knife,before squeezing them open. He put a plate down in front of Buffy and another where he was going to sit.

"Oh, nearly forgot the wine."

He got out a bottle of white zinfandel and returned to the table.

"Uh…probably best if you serve yourself with the food and the wine, if that's okay?"

He uncorked the wine with an ease that made her think he'd been able to do it blindfolded before fate robbed him of his sight. Using the oven-gloves, he took the lid off the casserole dish.

"It smells gorgeous!" Buffy reached out and squeezed his hand. "Thank you for doing this for me. I've never had a guy cook dinner for me that wasn't a barbecue."

"Don't think I'd be very safe with a barbie," said Spike. "Never been much of a one for burnt sausages, though, so no great loss."

Buffy nearly dropped the ladle of chicken casserole that was halfway to her plate at his words.

As if he could see her gawping at him, he said, "What?"

"What do you mean, what?"

"I mean was there a reason you suddenly held your breath and stopped moving?"

"How did you know I did that?" Buffy poured the casserole onto her plate and put the ladle back in the dish.

Spike shrugged. "Easy. I heard you take a breath but you didn't let it out. Your blouse rustles a little when you move. It stopped rustling hence you stopped moving. So what did I do to make you do that?"

"Hell, Spike. You're more observant than anyone I know!" She quickly leaned over, managing to surprise him with a kiss. "I just love that you seem more at ease with yourself. Having your own place is really helping you, isn't it?"

Resting a hand on her knee, Spike said, "Yeah, well when I was at Sandar, I got to thinking that I could either mope about and be bitter for the rest of my life, or else try to make something of it. I had a great incentive."

"What, getting away from your mother?" Buffy clapped her hands over her mouth as soon as she said it. "Crap, I'm sorry. I really shouldn't have said that."

"'S okay. Getting my own flat was something I wanted to do, but my main incentive…was you."

"Me?"

He nodded. "You. I know we haven't been dating for long and I still can't believe that you're here with me, but I want to be able to be more than the blind boyfrie—"

"I would never think of you like that!" She slapped his arm. "Never!"

"Ow! I didn't mean it like that." Spike rubbed a hand through his hair. "Look, I just…oh, I don't know…I just wanted to be useful, not just sit back and let you do everything. If I want friends to come round to dinner, I wanted to be able to cook for them." He smiled. "I used to have this big list of things I wanted to do before I died. I've had to chuck most of the ideas out, but I've made a new list and not being useless is top of it."

"What was on your list?"

"Uh…it was stupid. Look, let's eat before the food gets cold. Remember I damn near chopped my finger off when I was cutting the onions."

"Okay. I'll eat, but only because I'm starving and this is delicious. You can tell me about your list later."

The meal over and dishes stacked in the dishwasher, Spike and Buffy lay entwined on the sofa, the CD "Science and Faith" by The Script playing softly in the background. The conversation got round to Spike's list as he knew it would.

"So what was on it then?"

He sighed. Did he really want to outline all the things he couldn't hope to do any more when he was getting more positive?

"You don't have to if you don't want to," said Buffy, snuggling even closer to him.

"Nah, it's okay. Half the things were bloody daft anyway."

"Such as?"

"Oh, I dunno…like bungee-jumping."

"You could still do that. Unless the doctors advised against it."

"No, Buffy. I can't." The blunt tone of voice made Buffy look at him sharply.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm terrified of heights. I would have never made it to the top of the bridge or crane, let alone fling myself off!" He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. "I wrote most of them when I was pissed."

"What else? A serious one this time. Something you would love to do."

"Well, there is something that I would love to do, but it's only just got to the top of the list so I'm not sure it'd count or that I'd be doing it for all the right reasons."

Intrigued, Buffy sat up. "What is it?"

"I'd love to take you to London. Show you the sights, even though I'd be a lousy guide."

"I would love that. But," she frowned, "what did you mean about the right reasons?"

"Well, I'd sort of like to show you off, to my mates…er…the blokes I used to be mates with. Don't get mad at me. I had a lot of mates back then, suppose really most were just acquaintances. When I had the crash, they were all there for me to begin with, but when the docs said I'd never be able to…that I was blind…they all sort of faded away. By the time Mum took me out of England, the ones that had hung around 'cause they felt sorry for me let out a sigh of relief, metaphorically waved me off and that was that."

"God, Spike, that's awful. Haven't any kept in touch?"

He shook his head. "Don't blame them really. Look, I was a bit of a pillock back then. Used to go out a lot, get pissed up. We all thought we were bleeding invincible; my accident proved we weren't."

"Still…"

"Yeah. Hence the childish desire to go back to good old Blighty and just happen to drop in for a drink in my old local with a red hot California girl on my arm. Show them I haven't completely lost my touch."

He kissed Buffy before she could protest at what he'd said. The kiss increased in heat and when their lips parted, the conversation was forgotten. Later, drenched in sweat, flopped out on the bed, gasping like fish out of water, Spike and Buffy could barely remember their names.

"Holy cow," Spike muttered, hoping his heart rate would soon get back to something like normal.

"Hmm?" Buffy was losing the battle to stay awake.

Spike closed his eyes and listened to her breathing, which was becoming almost as familiar to him as his own. Again, he whispered the words he daren't yet voice when she was awake.

"I love you."

This time she heard him.


	21. Chapter 21

Treading Water

Chapter Twenty-One

Buffy's eyes flew open. Without realising it, her body tensed and she heard him mumble.

"You awake, Buff?"

Should she pretend she hadn't heard him? Should she tell him she had? The decision was taken out of her hands when he stroked her hair and said, "If you don't breathe out soon, you're gonna pass out."

Her long held breath came out in a snort. "Sorry."

"What for?"

"Er…I'm not really sure." Her nervous laugh confirmed his fears that she'd heard him.

"I'm guessing you heard what I said, yeah?"

He felt her head nod as it rested against his chest.

"Look, I didn't mean to freak you out…I know we haven't been together long and what with me being bl— ow!"

"Don't keep throwing the blindness thing into anything about our feelings for each other." Buffy sat up straight and glared at him as he rubbed the arm she'd slapped.

"Well, it's kind of a big deal, really. And I'm not going all pity party on you. It's a fact. I'm blind and it does complicate things. Anyway just forget it, I didn't mean—"

"To say it?" Buffy's heart pounded in her chest. "You said it by accident? You didn't mean it?"

"Um…I was going to say I didn't mean for you to hear it. Not yet." He swallowed hard and bit the bullet, putting his heart on the line. "I do love you, Buffy. It's okay, you don't need to say it back or anything. It won't change anything."

"Oh, Spike. It will change things. It already has."

_Fuck!_ "Can't we just forget it?" He pushed the covers back and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "I thought you were asleep." He rubbed his hands over his face, silently cursing himself for being such a bloody idiot.

The bed bounced as Buffy moved on it. He squeezed his eyes shut, expecting her to get off the bed and get dressed before leaving, but she didn't do that. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her front to his back, and resting her chin on his shoulder.

"I don't want to forget it. I don't think any girl would ever want to forget when a guy tells her he loves her for the first time. Especially because it means she can finally say what she's known almost from the moment she met him. She gets to tell him that she loves him too."

He twisted round until they were face to face. Before he could say anything, she cupped his face in her hands.

"_I_ love you."

The way his face lit up at her words told her what it meant for him to hear it.

"You do?"

"Of course I do, you dope!"

"Hey. I just told you how I feel about you, and you're calling me a dope."

"You told me when you thought I was asleep." Buffy kissed the end of his nose and grinned. "But, it was inevitable."

"It was? How do you work that out? Me thinking you were asleep was inevitable?" He scratched his head.

"Not that. It's just…" she pushed his shoulder, giggling, "what's not to love about me?"

Spike thought about the person he'd been before. The ultimate one-night-stand guy. Since he'd met Buffy, all he'd wanted was her to be with him all the time. He'd thought it had been because he was blind and feared no one else would want him, but in reality, it was because he'd finally found his perfect match.

"This silence is so not flattering," said Buffy, pretending to be in a snit.

He laughed. "So I've got to flatter you now as well? It's a bit out of order." He laughed even louder, flopping back on the bed, holding his sides.

The snit was pretend no more. "What's so funny?"

When he managed to get his mirth under control, he reached up and pulled her down next to him. "Sorry, it just made me think of something me and the lads used to say when we were out on the pull."

Buffy chuckled softly. "Why do I know that I'm not going to like what I'm going to hear?"

"That's because in addition to being so beautiful, you're intelligent too." He dissolved into laughter at his private joke once more.

"Spike! Just tell me already!"

"Okay, but promise not to be mad at me. It was just something we used to say." He shrugged. "Mind you, it did work most of the time." Shifting away from her a little, he added, "There are no sharp objects within your reach, I hope?" He took a deep breath. "Here goes. Just remember. I. Love. You." He smiled lopsidedly. "We used to say that you had to follow the three F's where girls were concerned. Food. First you take her out to dinner. Flattery. Then you spend the time over dinner flattering her as much as you could. That would lead to the last F –she'd take you home for a—"

"I get the picture, Spike."

"Nothing," he said, trying to make amends.

"What?" He could almost hear her frown.

"You asked what's not to love, and my answer is nothing. There is nothing I don't love about you, Buffy Summers."

She giggled. "That's flattery, and since we already had dinner…"

"I like your thinking." Spike slithered down the bed, pushing her thighs apart. "So we get straight onto the final F, then?"

"We'd better, Mister!"

With an energy that surprised them both, they made love for the second time that night, thoroughly christening Spike's new bed.

xoxoxox

The pair parted reluctantly the next morning. A yawning Buffy headed off to open the store and an equally bleary Spike set to clearing away the dishes. He had just finished stacking them in the dishwasher when the telephone rang. After a quick fumble on the counter, he picked up the cell phone.

"Hello?"

"Spike. How're you doing?"

"Riley!" Spike wandered over and sat on the sofa. "I'm good. How about you? What are the newbies like? Any as bloody horrible as that Ted?"

"No, they're all okay. Got one kid here, just sixteen…man, it's so unfair."

"Yeah."

For a moment they were silent, thinking of how cruel fate could be.

"Er…so…how did Buffy like the apartment?"

Spike grinned, sombre moment forgotten. "I think she liked it. I never really got around to asking her."

"Too much information!" Riley could guess what the night had been like.

Laughing, Spike said, "So, I meant what I said the other day. Why don't you come over? You could stay the night. We could maybe go to the Bronze? The Dingoes are playing at the weekend."

"I dunno…"

"Aw c'mon. Fred can't make you work twenty-four-seven. It'll be fun." Spike knew that Riley worked every other weekend and that he was due to be off duty this weekend. "Say yes."

"Uh…okay. But I'm not sure about going to the club, okay?"

"Okay. No worries. We can order pizza and hang out here." Spike had no intention of doing that, but he could work on Riley once he was with him.

"Okay. I'll come. I'll be there around eleven hundre—er—eleven o'clock."

"Eleven hundred, sharp!"

"You're real funny, Spike. You know that, right?"

"I know." He chuckled. "See you then, Ri."

After chatting for a few more minutes, they hung up and Spike began to plan how he could get Riley to agree to going to the Bronze without having to resort to force. He also wondered if Riley would actually fit on the pull out bed that the sofa turned into.

"Freakishly tall, git."

xoxoxox

Spike arranged for Xander to go to collect Riley, so that he'd be able to help guide him right to the door to the apartment without causing the man embarrassment. When they arrived, Spike buzzed them through and met them at his door.

"Hi, Xan, Ri. Come on in."

Xander, used to guiding Spike, led Riley to the sofa, before settling in an armchair.

"Glad you made it, Ri. I hope Xander didn't talk your ears off on the trip? He does tend to babble."

"Hey! I so do not babble. Babbling is so not what I do. I converse! I have conversations, I…" Xander caught Spike and Riley trying to hide their smiles, "Okay. I babble. You can stop laughing at me now."

"Made the trip entertaining," said Riley. "Travelling's kinda boring when you can't look out the windows."

"Want a soda or a coffee before you leave, Xan?"

"Yeah, a Coke would be great, thanks. I've got a half hour before my next job."

"Ri? Fancy a beer?"

"Beer sounds good, thanks."

Spike walked into the kitchen and came back with two beers and a Coke. "You're in the chair, right, Xan?"

"Yeah."

Spike loved how Xander never made an issue about his lack of sight. He walked a couple more paces into the room then held out the can. Xan took it, saying thanks as he did, before Spike sat on the sofa next to Riley. Swapping his grip on the bottles, Spike held one in each hand and reached out with his left until he felt it touch Riley's knee.

"Here you go, mate. Glad you made it."

"Yeah, me too. If I stay at Sandar on the weekends, I usually end up helping out."

Xander watched the two men, feeling almost guilty at having twenty-twenty vision. They were about the same age as he was, but their lives were so totally different from his. He glanced at Riley, whose eyes were hidden behind dark glasses, but the scars on his face left no doubt about what would be seen if the glasses were removed. Suddenly uncomfortable, he got to his feet.

"Well, I'd better get going. I'll put the can in the trash on my way out. I'm working this weekend so ask Jessie for me if you call in for a cab."

"Will do. Thanks, mate."

Spike listened to make sure the door closed properly behind Xander, before getting up and heading to the kitchen. "Don't know about you, Ri, but I reckon another beer's in order."

"Sounds good." He stretched out his long limbs confident that there was nothing in their way. "So what have you been doing, apart from renting this place?"

"Not much. I need to get a job or something; going to go mental if I don't have something to do."

"You're okay for cash though?"

"Yeah, thanks to selling the property in London and the compensation from the insurance company, I'm okay. More than okay really, but I can't spend the rest of my days sitting on my arse."

"Got anything in mind?"

"I'd like to get back into reporting on gigs, but it's a tough thing to break into and I'm not convinced I'd do any good when compared to sighted journos."

"You should try it, though." Riley took a deep pull of his beer. "Don't get anywhere if you don't try."

Spike laughed. "Jeez, you sound just like Fred!"

"Sorry. It sort of rubs off. I'm right, though."

"Yeah, I know." Spike grinned as he had an idea. "How about I do a deal with you?"

Riley shifted in his seat. "What deal?"

"I promise to send off my CV to mags and the like, and you come out tonight to listen to the Dingoes."

"Deal."

"Hey, you said that too quickly."

"I'd already decided I'd go to the Bronze. Figured I had to after spending my time pushing people out of their comfort zones and back into really living. But no going back. You've got to try to get a job."

"Git. I will. Won't hold my breath though." He reached out to the side table, his fingers seeking the remote to the music system. "I've got a CD of the Dingoes. Want to hear it?"

"Sure."

Spike pressed the button and music flooded the room.

"I like them," said Riley after listening to a couple of tracks. "So are you going to play guitar with them tonight?"

"No. Haven't had much chance to practice lately. Not getting up on a stage then making a bollocks of it."

"So who else will be with us?"

Spike could tell that Riley was nervous about the evening ahead by the tone of his voice. "Well, me, obviously. Then there'll be Buffy and Willow, who goes out with Oz the bassist—"

"He's the nurse, right?"

"Yeah, but don't go bandying that about. Not very 'rock-star' to be a nurse."

"Suppose not."

"I'd better give Jesse a call and book Xander and the cab for later."

Riley snorted.

"What did I say?"

"Do you really have to? Or is it just camouflage?"

"Huh?"

Riley moved his foot to the side sharply, catching Spike's ankle. "It's just I don't believe you haven't already gotten it arranged. There was no way you were going to let me stay in."

"Oi, I resent that!" Spike chuckled. "I honestly didn't book the cab, but you're right, there was no way you were getting out of going to the Bronze. I even had my secret weapon all lined up."

"What's that then?"

"Buffy's cooking. One taste of her grub and you'd be running out the door."

"She can't be that bad."

"Trust me, mate, she really can. Talking of food, fancy a pizza before we go out?"

"Sounds good. No pineapple on it though – 'cause that's just wrong."

"No pineapple – check."

Spike walked into the kitchen to where he kept his cell phone, ordered the pizza before letting Riley know where the bathroom was. He showed him the bedroom, having decided that there was no way the former soldier would get a comfortable night's sleep on the sofa-bed.

Later, as he showered and got changed to go out, Spike's stomach churned. He fervently hoped his friend would enjoy the evening. Hopefully the knowledge that the club would be dimly lit would give Riley more confidence as his scars would be less visible. Listening to Riley singing tunelessly in the shower, Spike also fervently hoped Ri wouldn't join in and sing along.


	22. Chapter 22

Treading Water

Chapter Twenty-Two

The intercom in Spike's apartment buzzed. "Hey, guys, I'm here."

Spike pressed the door release button and replied, "Hi, Xan. Come in." He turned to Riley. "I asked him to give you a hand to the cab. I hope you don't mind…I'm mean, he's…and…"

"Relax, Spike. I know I need help and Xander's cool."

"Uh…great."

Spike's discomfort was interrupted by Xander's arrival at the door.

"You guys ready?"

"Yeah," Spike said, stepping back to allow Xander inside. "You parked in the usual spot?"

"I am. So Riley… I'm just here, okay?" He touched the man's arm and waited for him to reach out to take his elbow. "It's all on the level apart from the two steps down outside the building."

"Thanks."

They walked into the corridor, paused while Spike locked up, then the three of them made their way to the cab. Xander helped Riley into the cab, before guiding Spike to the other side so he could sit alongside Riley.

"Next stop, The Bronze," Xander said, starting the vehicle and pulling smoothly into the traffic.

Glances in his rear view mirror showed Riley sat rigid with tension just like Spike used to. He hoped Spike was right to push his friend into going to the club. He took them to the back door and walked Riley into the building where Oz was waiting to greet them.

"Spike, hey, man. It's been too long."

"Yeah, well I'm hoping you lot have improved a bit since I heard you last." Spike grinned. With attending Sandar Lodge and settling in the apartment, he hadn't met up with his friend for a while.

Oz snorted. "Don't get your hopes up. So are you going to introduce me or not?"

"Sorry. Oz, this is Riley. Riley, this is my mate Nurse Osbourne."

Laughing at Oz's outraged expression, Xander said, "And that's my cue to leave. See you guys later."

"Cheers, Xan," said Spike, chuckling.

"Oh, you're just so funny," Oz said, shaking his head.

"I know!"

"Okay, Riley, I'm gonna ignore the idiot beside you for the next…um…forever. So, how are you doing? We've got a table reserved. If you want to take my arm, I'll take you there."

Riley laughed and reached out with his left hand.

"Uh…you're going to have to lower your hand a little, unless you need to hold me round my neck. Man, are you tall!"

"You're a bleeding short-arse, more like," Spike muttered.

Oz shrugged. "You hear anything, Riley?"

"Not a thing." He grinned, the banter putting him at ease.

"Right, let's get to that table. There's a beer with my name on it…"

Feeling a little disloyal towards Spike, Riley said, "Uh…what about—"

"Don't worry about Spike, he knows the way."

"I'll just trip up and break my sodding neck then," Spike said.

Sensing Riley's hesitation, Oz added, "The table's just outside the stage door and the way to it is always kept clear when we know Spike's coming. So don't worry, we won't end up spending the night in the Emergency Room of the hospital."

"Seriously, mate," added Spike. "The manager here is great about stuff like that."

"Okay, so take me to that beer, Oz," Riley said.

Buffy and Willow watched the three men approach.

"Riley makes Oz look like a hobbit," said Willow, chuckling.

The dim lighting lessened the effect Riley's scars had, but still, she was glad that Buffy had warned her about them. She reached out, squeezed Buffy's hand, and whispered, "Oh, the poor brave man."

"I know."

"We're at the table, Riley. I'll just pull out a chair. Buffy's here, who you've met before and also my girlfriend, Willow," said Oz, helping Riley to sit down.

"Hi, Riley. I'm so glad you came to visit Spike," said Buffy. She got up and gave him a quick hug, then kissed his cheek.

"Uh… I had to come. I knew he'd never leave me alone until I had."

"I'm Willow. Pleased to meet you."

"Good to meet you, too. I've heard a lot about you."

"Hey, Spike, what're you doing talking about my girlfriend?" said Oz, faking annoyance. "It better be all good."

"Oh it was," said Riley, leaning back in his chair and relaxing. Suddenly the evening didn't seem so daunting. These were good people.

"So who's going to get the drinks in?" Spike said, sitting on a stool. "I'm dying of thirst."

"I'll go," said Oz who had yet to sit down. "Beer all round?"

"Mineral water for me, please," said Buffy.

"Very wise." Spike nodded sagely. "She really can't hold her liquor."

Riley laughed. "Oh, yeah. You told me about that. It's how you too met, isn't it?"

"That's right. She was so pissed she didn't even know I was bloody blind."

"Hey! That story is so not for everyone to know!"

Oz headed for the bar, leaving the others laughing at Buffy's embarrassment.

xoxoxox

After much persuasion, Spike had agreed to play guitar on the first couple of songs of the Dingoes' set and so had gone backstage with Oz. Willow and Buffy had done what girls always do – gone to the restroom together, leaving Riley alone for the moment.

He sighed and stretched out his long legs. For all his worries, the evening was proving enjoyable.

"Ow!" A splash of liquid hit Riley's arm, followed by a thud. "Jesus!" a female voice shrieked. A scrabbling noise was followed by her yelling. "Look what you've done!"

"Uh…" Riley rubbed at his wet shirtsleeve. "Made you spill your drink, I guess." He held his hand out. "Sorry."

"And trip me up, you dork!" She slapped his hand away.

He straightened up in his seat. "Hey, I said I'm sorry. I didn't realise that my feet were sticking out so far… and yeah, before you say it – I _am _blind."

"You're? Oh, crap!" A chair's legs scraped on the floor as she pulled it out. "Now, I guess, I'm sorry."

"Wow, say it with a bit more feeling, why don't you?"

The girl leaned forward, resting a hand on his arm. "Hey, I really am sorry for yelling. It's just been a hell of a day."

"And it just keeps on getting worse?"

"Damn straight. I'm Faith, by the way."

"Finn. Riley Finn."

"Well, Finn, Riley Finn," said Faith. "How about buying a girl a drink to replace the one you made me spill, and I'll forget about my throbbing knees."

Riley grinned.

Faith slapped his shoulder. "You better not be thinking what I think you're thinking about my knees, soldier."

"Soldier?"

"Aw, c'mon! If someone introduces themselves like that, and isn't actually saying his name is James Bond, then he's got to have been a soldier," Faith said, laughing.

"I was…until, well…you know."

Faith sobered. "Yeah. How'd it happen?"

Riley shifted in his seat, and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. He held out a twenty. "How about you go get a couple of drinks and I'll tell you? I'd go but it'd probably take me all night to get to the bar." He grinned, deciding that the beer he'd had was helping him bypass his usual reserve.

"How do you know I won't just walk off with your cash?" The chair scraped as Faith stood up.

"I trust you."

"Hmmph. More fool you." The note was snatched out of Riley's hand, and he heard her walk away.

Buffy and Willow leaned against the wall, watching the exchange.

"So do we have to stay here all night? I want to watch the band and they'll be on soon," said Willow, crossing her arms.

"I dunno… Maybe see if she sits down with him?"

"Okay."

The pair settled back into silence, watching anxiously for her return. Buffy nudged Willow and grinned when the dark haired woman strode back to the table.

"Here." Faith held out a beer, and sat down.

Riley reached out, knowing from the matter-of-fact way she'd spoken to him that Faith would put it in his hand.

"Cheers." He tipped the bottle towards her in acknowledgement. "I knew you'd be back."

Faith took a deep pull of her own beer. "That so? Well you better make good on your promise and tell me what happened to you."

"Not much to say. Enemy ambush out in Afghanistan. Some died. I got lucky. It's taken me some time to realise that though."

"I get that. So what brings you to Sunnydale? I'm not treading on any toes here, am I? 'Cause I'm getting the evil eye from a blonde and a redhead over by the wall."

"So you don't know them?"

"Nope."

"I thought they must have asked you to come over."

Frowning, Faith said, "Why the hell would you think that? I was actually walking by until you got my attention with your enormous damn feet."

Riley laughed. "The two girls will be Buffy and Willow. I was thinking they were taking a heck of a long time in the restroom. I'm here visiting a friend, Spike. Buffy's his girlfriend and Willow is—"

"The bassist's girl," said Faith. "I've seen them around now I think of it."

"So where are they?"

"Over to your left."

Riley turned that way and beckoned them over, hoping he was at least in the ballpark of the right area.

"Um…we didn't want to interrupt," said Buffy as she and Willow took their seats.

"I don't scare off that easily. My name's Faith. I was just getting to know soldier boy here after he tripped me up."

The Dingoes chose that moment to walk on stage. As ever, Buffy's heart swelled with pride when she saw Spike walk slowly on stage behind the others.

Faith leaned over the table to say to the girls, "Your guys are in a cool band. I've seen them a few times now."

Willow and Buffy grinned and thanked her. When the band began to play, Buffy whispered in Riley's ear. "She's pretty, by the way. Long brown wavy hair. Brown eyes. Slim. About the same age as me."

"Jeez, Buffy…" Riley could feel his neck begin to heat up.

"It's okay. She didn't hear me."

Riley took another deep pull on his beer, and shook his head. The girl was being polite by staying, but he liked her cocky attitude and would enjoy it while it lasted.

Buffy leapt to her feet, apparently to help Spike back to the table when he came off stage to listen to the rest the set, but really to clue him in about the feisty brunette who showed no sign of leaving Riley's side.

When she got to the table, she pulled a chair out for Spike. "Spike, this is Faith. Faith, Spike."

"Hey man, you play that guitar well." She reached over and slapped his shoulder, hard enough to make him grunt, and the others laugh.

"Uh…thanks." He rubbed his shoulder. "Remind me not to piss you off."

"Wise move," deadpanned Faith.

"The Dingoes are great, Spike, I'm glad you persuaded me to come," said Riley.

"Told you they were." Spike wished he could see Riley's expression, but he could guess it with the inflection in Riley's voice. His friend was enjoying the company. Spike sat back in his chair, a smirk on his lips.

"What's so amusing?" said Buffy, taking his hand.

He leaned in to kiss her. "Just pleased that Ri's having a good time."

"Me too. I think you might cramp his style later, though," she whispered.

"Why?"

"The way she's looking at him, I think she's about ready to eat him alive."

Spike snorted with laughter. "Shame the apartment's only got the one room. A one-nighter might have done him good, but no way am I letting him get shagged on my bed."

Buffy bumped shoulders with him. "And I thought you were his friend."

Still chuckling, Spike draped his arm around Buffy's shoulders. "That bed will see no action 'cept ours!"

"So that means you're not getting any tonight either."

She placed a hand lightly in Spike's lap before running it up over the zipper in his jeans.

"Dammit, woman, you're killing me."

"I know."

They kissed long and hard enough to make Willow kick Spike's ankle.

"Behave yourselves!" she said. "Riley, tell him to stop kissing Buffy all the time. It's making me nauseous!"

They laughed loud enough to earn several glares from the next table over.


	23. Chapter 23

Treading Water

Chapter Twenty-Three

The band joined the others round the table when they finished their set. Riley, to his surprise, found he no longer felt awkward with them. It might have been that they were just great company and used to being around the blind because of Spike. Or it might have been because he'd had more beers in one evening that he'd had in an age. But he finally decided that the most likely reason for him to feel at ease was Faith's hand on his thigh.

All too soon, one of the barkeeps came over to let them know that Xander and his cab were waiting at the backdoor. Reluctantly Spike and Riley got to their feet, and the whistles and catcalls from the others let Riley know that Spike and Buffy were kissing.

"Uh…well, it was nice meeting you, Faith," Riley said, awkwardly. He'd hated the end of the night crap when he was sighted, now it was ten times worse.

"Yeah, you too." Faith stared at him, then after a pause added. "Damn…is that it? You're blowing me off?"

"What? No, it's just…"

"So are you going to ask me for my number then?"

He shook his head. "I'm not from Sunnydale, so it's okay you—"

"Well unless you're gonna tell me you're from Outer Mongolia, what difference does a few miles make?"

"I don't know, but…"

Faith rolled her eyes when his words trailed off. "Oh, I get it. There are two ways you could be seeing this. One, you really are blowing me off, or two, you think that I'd blow you off if you call." She put a hand on his arm. "So which is it, big guy? 'Cause I have to tell you, I'm not used to not getting my way and I want to see you again."

"Faith…it's not you, it's—"

"Just tell me your number, and I'll call you."

"What?"

"Give it to me." He opened his mouth to speak. "Just do it."

Despite himself, he grinned. "Yes, Ma'am." He recited his cell phone number.

Her fingers flashed over the keypad of her phone. "Done." She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, purposely choosing the side with the worst scars. "I will call you, Finn, Riley Finn."

"Oi! Ri, we've got to go," Spike called out. "Faith, it was good to meet you."

"You too, Spike," she said, before turning her attention back to Riley. "I'd better let you go, and you'd better pick up the phone when I call." She kissed him again, winked at the others who, with the exception of Spike, were all staring at her and Riley. "See ya, guys." Faith raised a hand to them and then strode away.

"Hell, that is one fine looking woman," said Devon, with feeling.

When Riley blushed and shifted from foot to foot, the others chuckled, and Oz walked over to offer his arm to guide him out to the cab. They said goodbye to the others and followed Spike and Buffy to the cab.

"Are you sure you two are going to be okay?" asked Buffy leaning in to give Spike another kiss as he sat in the rear seat.

"'Course we will. Why wouldn't we?" Spike said.

"Uh, maybe because I think you've had a bit too much to drink, and I don't think Riley is far behind you."

"We'll be fine. Won't we, Ri?" Spike elbowed him, and he grunted before agreeing with Spike.

"Sure."

"Don't worry, Buffy. I'll make sure they get inside safe, okay?" Xander offered.

"Thanks, Xander. I'll call you in the morning, Spike."

"Not too early," Spike said quickly.

"Hmmph. Men!" Buffy kissed Spike's cheek, deftly avoiding his attempt to kiss her back. "Goodnight." She pushed the car door closed and slapped her hand on the roof.

"Are you really so drunk?" asked Riley as Xander pulled out of the club's parking lot.

Spike snickered. "Probably."

"You guys better be okay when I leave you," said Xander glancing at them in his rear view mirror. "If anything happens Buffy'll kill me."

"Jeez, Xan. You sound worse than my mother," Spike said, scowling.

"Impossible." Xander disguised the word in a cough. He'd heard enough stories about Drusilla to be glad he'd never actually met the woman.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

A short time later, he pulled up to the kerb. "Here you go. Now wait until I get the door for you. Or not," he added as Spike opened it and began to climb out of the car.

Xander leapt out to assist him and somehow managed to guide a slightly wobbly Spike and a chuckling Riley into Spike's apartment. He watched as they flopped down on the sofa bed that Spike had the presence of mind to make ready before they went out, and shook his head.

"This has disaster written all over it, you know that, right?"

"We'll be fine, won't we, Ri?" Spike put his arm around Riley's shoulder.

"Sure we will." Riley's confident words were spoilt by him slipping down the bed a little.

"Let me make you some coffee before I go. You're too wasted to be trusted with boiling the water."

"Hey! I object to that." Spike waved his arm dramatically, narrowly missing clouting Riley around the head.

"Something's gonna happen, and then Buffy's gonna slay me."

Xander walked into the kitchen and made the coffee. When he'd given the mugs to Riley and Spike, he said goodnight and headed home, his shift with the cab over for the night.

"So, come on, tell me. What's Faith like then?" Spike nudged Riley.

"She's…great."

"Wow, that was said with just about zero enthusiasm."

"No, I mean it. She's great, but there's no point in thinking about her. Nothing's going to happen."

"Why not?" said Spike, taking a slurp of his coffee.

"Why'd you think? Spike, I know what I look like, okay. And let's talk about something else."

"I reckon she'll call you."

"Spike." Riley's tone held a warning.

"Okay, you grumpy sod. I'll shut it, but not before you agree to a little wager on whether she'll call you or not."

"Name your price," Riley said, confident that come the morning, Faith would be regretting her promise."

"Fifty dollars says she calls."

"You're on."

The pair shook hands to seal the bet. Spike took the empty mugs back into the kitchen and let Riley use the bathroom first, before sprawling across the sofa bed naked but for his wristwatch. He grinned. Least he didn't have to suffer wearing pjs with Riley as his guest.

xoxoxox

There are good ways to be woken in the morning and there is being woken by a Billy Ray Cyrus ringtone when you have a thumping hangover.

"Turn it off!" Spike yelled, the volume of his own voice making him wince even more. "If I hear another sodding 'achy breaky' I swear, I'll…" He burrowed his head beneath the pillow, desperate to blot out the sound.

"I'm trying to! I can't find my jacket," Riley said.

"That's 'cause you left it out here last night, you git!" Spike tossed the pillow to the side, as a thought occurred to him. "Don't worry, I'll get it."

"What? No! Leave it!"

Chuckling, Spike crawled to the side of the sofa that Riley had sat on the night before. "Seriously, it's okay. It's no bother."

Riley burst out of the room and all but dove onto the sofa bed, half-landing on Spike.

"Jeez! You're naked."

"Well, yeah. Not like you're going cop an eyeful, is it? And if you'd mind moving your hand…"

"Christ!" Riley recoiled and fell off the bed with a thump just as the phone went silent. "Crap!"

"I forgot what a morning person you are," said Spike, grinning.

Riley said nothing until he found his jacket and fumbled in the pocket for his phone.

"Do you think that was her?"

"Only one way to find out."

"I'll wait and see if she calls again. I mean, it might not be her. There could be a problem at Sandar or something."

"Yeah, mate. It really can't be the hot chick who spent the night talking to you. Much more likely to be a work related thing."

"I…I'm not sure I can call her."

"Press to return a missed call and be done with it. I'm going to get a shower. And a drink of water. Lots and lots of water." He got off the bed and tottered to the bathroom. "I feel like shite."

The phone began to ring again. Riley yelped and almost dropped it. Spike spun on his heels and returned to the sofa.

"Or I could stay here and listen in…?"

"Fuck off to the bathroom." Riley's voice was edged with desperation.

"Okay. Just answer it before it rings off again." He headed back towards the bathroom singing along with the ring tone.

Riley was laughing as he pressed the button to take the call.

"I like a man who's cheerful in the mornings."

"Faith."

"Who did you think it would be?"

"I-I hoped it was you."

"So, when am I gonna see you again?"

He snorted. "You're very direct."

"Only way to be. I see something I want, I go for it."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Why me?" His insecurities were plain to hear in his voice.

"Honestly? I don't know. I guess I liked how you reacted when I yelled at you for tripping me, and then…I really enjoyed talking with you, Riley. I'd like to get to know you more. Is that so hard to believe?"

"Since you're on the phone now, then I guess not."

"So, tell me about yourself, Finn, Riley Finn."

"You're gonna keep on saying that, aren't you?"

Faith's rich laugh stirred parts of him he thought had long been put out to pasture.

"I sure am. I mean, who actually introduces themselves like that anymore?"

Spike, who'd been hovering just inside the bathroom door eavesdropping on Riley's side of the conversation, smiled and went to turn on the shower when he heard Riley's laughter.

"You need to give her the three Fs, mate," he muttered, smiling broadly.

xoxoxox

Spike lounged on the sofa, still feeling headachy after Xander had collected Riley to take him home to Sandar. Buffy wasn't due to come over until the evening. She'd called just after he'd had his shower, relieved to find out that the men had survived the night without mishap.

He groaned when the intercom buzzed and heaved himself to his feet. "If that pillock from number six has forgotten his key again…"

Leaning against the wall, Spike thumbed the button and said, "What?"

A throaty chuckle crackled through the intercom. "Good afternoon, Spike. I see I've found you in good humour."

"Sorry, Rupert. I had a skin full last night."

He opened the door as soon as Rupert knocked on it.

"Come in. I don't know why you won't have a key to the place. I still have mine for your house."

"That's because it will always be home for you. I haven't got a key because you know full well that your mother will find it and drop in unannounced all the time."

Spike ran a hand over his head, pushing his hair back from his forehead. "That is true. I forgot about that. I'm going to sit back down if you don't mind?"

"Not at all. Can I get you anything? You do look rather pale."

"Nah, I'm alright, thanks. Just drank a bit more than I have in a while. And before you say anything, I'm not likely to be repeating it anytime soon, okay?"

Rupert laughed and followed Spike into the living area, sitting on a chair opposite the sofa.

"I came to talk to you about your birthday," he said when they were both settled.

"Oh, shite. What's Mum got planned? I'm not having her use my birthday as a bloody excuse for her to have a party and show me off to all her charity pals."

"Not a party, no."

Spike tensed, from Rupert's tone he knew he wasn't going to like what he was going to hear.

"So what is it then?"

"Dinner. You and Buffy are invited to dinner with me and your mother. I thought perhaps at a restaurant would be a better option than at home."

"Oh, shit, Rupert. I don't know. They didn't exactly get off on a good footing."

"Are you serious about Buffy?"

"Yes. I am. Very."

"Well in that case, you can't keep her away from your mother forever. I know Dru can be…difficult at times, but she is your mother and she cares for you deeply. Is having a meal out with her such a terrible thing?"

"Jeez, when you put it like that," Spike said with a snort. "Okay. I'll ask Buffy about it, she's coming round later. But if she says no then that's it. I'll come to dinner, but I won't force her into coming if she doesn't want to."

"I'm sure she will oblige." Rupert stood up. "I'll be off then and leave you to your recovery."

"Oh, right." Frowning, Spike got to his feet.

"I suppose you're wondering why I dropped in, if just to ask you that?"

"Uh…yeah. A bit."

Rupert smiled. "Hold out your hands."

"What?"

"Don't be so suspicious. Hold out your hands."

Spike did so, muttering, "Least you don't have to tell me to close my eyes."

Rupert's smile faltered at Spike self-deprecating words. "Um…er…" There was a rustle of paper, and he placed an envelope in Spike's outstretched palms. "This is your birthday present. A pair of return tickets to London with ten days at a hotel."

For once, Spike was speechless. "Rupert…I…"

His step-father pulled him into a brief awkward hug. "I thought you might like to show Buffy where you're from."

Blinking back tears, Spike nodded. "I don't know what to say…"

"Thank you is the customary response."

Spike grinned. "Thank you, Rupert. I mean it." He turned the envelope over in his hands. "Thanks. For everything. Not just this."

Rupert squeezed Spike's shoulder. "I know. So call me about dinner, okay?"

"Okay."

He stood in the centre of his room for several minutes after Rupert had left, with the envelope still in his hands. Part of him was terrified at the thought of leaving his comfort zone to travel back to an England that would be alien to him, now he had no sight, but a larger part was excited at the thought. He needed to go back to where his life had been changed so dramatically.


	24. Chapter 24

**APOLOGIES FOR MISSING LAST WEEK - I UPLOADED BY MUST HAVE FORGOT TO POST. PLEASE MAKE SURE YOU READ CHAPTER 23 BEFORE THIS ONE AS POSTING ON SAME DAY. Mabel x**

Treading Water

Chapter Twenty-Four

"Trust bloody Rupert to pick a restaurant where I have to wear a sodding suit and tie." Spike tugged angrily at the blue tie he'd failed to knot properly for the third time. "Never could do this even when I could see what I was doing."

Buffy strode over to him, placing her hands on his and taking them away from the tie. "I'll do it for you. You're going to throttle yourself if you're not careful."

"Least I wouldn't have to go to dinner, if I succeeded."

"Jeez, Spike. I never knew a man who could pout as prettily as you do." Buffy's voice was laden with mirth. She reached up on tiptoe and kissed his lips.

"I don't do anything prettily. I'm a bloke, for God's sake."

"You're so cute when you get like this." She began to re-knot the tie.

Batting her hands away, Spike said, "Cute? It's getting worse."

"Quit it." Buffy gave him a poke in the belly.

"Ow!"

"It hurt my fingers more than your abs, so just stand still so I can get this done. If we're late, your mom will never believe that it's because of you and not me."

Realising that the upcoming dinner would be even more of a trial for Buffy than it was for him, Spike did as he was told, mumbling, "Sorry."

"Forgiven." Buffy kissed the tip of his nose and giggled when he squirmed. "You look great."

"I'd feel great if I was in my jeans," Spike couldn't help but say.

"We'll get through this. I'm a nice person. She'll like me."

Spike pulled her into his arms. "I don't care if she doesn't. I love you and nothing she can say or do will change that. I just don't want you to be upset by her, that's all."

Resting her head against his shoulder, but taking care not to get any of her soft pink lipstick on his shirt collar, Buffy sighed. She'd never get tired of hearing him say that he loved her. "I won't be. But it would be nice if we could get along."

"I know, but she's tricky. She doesn't get on with me half the time. But Rupert's great. I know he'll love you."

Buffy cringed when she thought back to the day she'd turned up at Rupert's house to apologise to Spike.

"I hope so."

Spike pushed her away until she was at arms' length. "He will." Leaning forwards, his lips found hers as surely as if he could see. When they parted, he said, "I think we'd better get going. Are you sure you want to drive? We could easily take a taxi."

"No. I want to drive. That way I have a good excuse not to drink any wine. Drunken Buffy would so not help my cause."

Laughing, Spike took her hand. "That is so true. So do I look okay?"

Buffy took in the charcoal grey suit, plain white shirt with the deep blue tie, now neatly knotted at the neck. "You look gorgeous."

"Tell me again what you're wearing. Start from the underwear out."

"You're so bad." They walked towards the door. "I've got a pair of silk and lace panties in pale pink, a matching bra, and—"

"You better stop there, or I'll be dragging you back to the sofa to have my evil way with you."

"That is infinitely more appealing than trying to impress your mother, but I think we'd be in big trouble if we didn't show. Rupert might even cancel those tickets or bump us down to economy." She smiled, butterflies fluttering in her stomach at the thought of their impending vacation. "I still can't believe I'm going to be travelling first class."

"The crafty old sod never even mentioned it when he gave me the envelope. Bit sneaky that."

"Nice sneaky though."

Once they were driving to the restaurant, Buffy's stomach churned this time with nerves and not the pleasant butterflies of earlier. No matter what Spike said, she knew it would make things a lot easier for him if she could get Drusilla to like her, even a little bit.

Spike, sensing her feelings, reached out and placed, placing his palm on her thigh, and giving it a squeeze. It was when he did things like that, that his lack of sight hit her. If he could see, she would have just shot him a grateful look, but instead she touched his hand briefly with her own, acknowledging the comfort he offered.

Walking into the crowded interior of Sunnydale's only high classhigh-class restaurant, Buffy glanced at Spike. He held himself proudly as she guided him through the obstacle course of chairs and tables to be seated with his mother and step-father. His white cane swayed to and fro, preventing him from tripping over people's feet or extended chair legs. Her heart swelled with pride. He'd come so far in accepting his blindness.

Her smile dimmed when she saw Drusilla staring at her, but taking a leaf out of Spike's book, she walked tall and didn't allow his mother to faze her.

"Here you are!" said Rupert, standing as they got to the table. A waiter helped Spike with his chair, whilst Rupert gave Buffy some assistance. "It's lovely to meet you again, my dear."

"Hello, Mr. Giles. Thank you for inviting me." She turned to Drusilla and smiled broadly. "Hello, Spike tells me you do a lot of work for charity."

"William," said Drusilla coldly. "His name is William. I wish everyone would call him by it."

"Darling…"

Dru impatiently waved her hand at Rupert. "You're just as bad. You never call him by his given name any more."

"Mum. Drop it, yeah? We've had this conversation way too many times, already. Let's not have it on my birthday, okay? I like being called Spike."

Buffy watched Drusilla's expression carefully whilst Spike spoke and as the woman's face softened, she realised with a jolt that Drusilla was afraid. She was afraid of losing him. His blindness had brought him back to her, and his new found independence threatened to take him away again.

"I'm sorry." Drusilla turned to Buffy. "Rupert tells me you work in a shop – I still can't get used to calling them stores, and I've been over here for years."

"I own it, actually." Buffy knew Drusilla was aware of that fact from the way Rupert opened his mouth to protest before she cut in. "Well, co-own it with a friend, to be more accurate."

"Really?" Drusilla rested her chin on her thumb, her scarlet nailed index finger held against her cheek. "What do you sell?"

Buffy took a deep breath and sat up straight. This was going to be as bad as when she'd told her mom she was opening the store when she left college.

"We sell comics, graphic novels and the memorabilia that goes with them."

"Comics?" Dru's pretty face screwed up as she wrinkled her nose.

"They're really popular, Mum. It's doing well, isn't it, Buffy?" Spike said.

Buffy smiled tightly, appreciating Spike jumping in to defend her, but not actually needing it.

"It is doing very well. We're ahead of our projected turnover at this time, and Willow has just set up a website so we're now selling worldwide."

"How extraordinary," said Dru, her tone and expression a little more conciliatory. "It's nice to know that perhaps you're not with my son just for his money."

"What?"

"Mum!"

"Drusilla!"

Buffy, Spike and Rupert spoke as one. Drusilla ignored the men, her eyes narrowing as she regarded Buffy.

"You really didn't know?" She waved away the waiter who approached to take their order.

"Know what?" Buffy frowned and glanced at Spike whose face looked like thunder.

"Shut it, Mum."

Drusilla smiled. "You must do…I mean, seriously, why would an attractive girl—"

"Drusilla! That is enough." Rupert gripped his wife's arm. "We're here to celebrate your son's birthday, not for you to be bloody obnoxious!"

"Spike?" said Buffy, turning to him.

He acted as if he hadn't heard her speak. "She doesn't know. There hasn't been any reason for it to come up. But if you'd rather she knew, then I'll tell her now."

Spike's voice was cold enough to make Buffy shiver and be glad the words weren't directed at her. His fingers skittered across the table until they touched her hand, then they wrapped around it.

"I can see fuck all, but I've got a few bob in the bank from the compensation and from selling my dad's house. That makes me a right catch, doesn't it?" He gripped Buffy's hand so hard she had to grit her teeth to keep from yelping. "Satisfied, Mother?"

"Spike, whatever money you have is your own, and I'd certainly never want to try to spend any of it," Buffy said.

"I know. That's why I never bothered mentioning it." A muscle in his jaw ticked. "I mean, I know you would never run off with a bloke who was worth a mint, and leave behind a man who loved you and your only son."

Drusilla gasped, and with a sob, rose from her chair and headed towards the restrooms.

"Spike. That's enough." Rupert's voice, though quiet, held authority. He smiled ruefully at Buffy. "Are you sure you really want to be a part of this family?"

She looked Spike's step-father in the eye and said simply, "I love him."

"Ah…" Rupert nodded. "Therein lies the problem. We have no choice in whom we love, do we?" He glanced over to where Drusilla had gone. "I'd better go find her. Don't be too hard on her, Spike. She does love you in her own strange way, and only fears she'll lose you again." Rupert scraped his chair back and left the table.

"She's making pretty damn sure that she does," Spike said to Rupert's back. After a pause he muttered. "Well that wasn't awkward at all. I should have known this wouldn't work. Let's go home."

Buffy leaned in and kissed him. "They're coming back. Let's see if we can make this work out, okay?"

"No. It's not worth it. Come on, we can grab a burger at the drive-thru on the way home."

"No, Spike. She's your mom, and I don't want you to have a fight with her over me."

"I don't care—"

"I do. Please. Stay. For me."

Spike shook his head and sighed. "Don't say I didn't bloody warn you."

"Now," said Rupert, as he and Drusilla sat down. "Can you two play nice?" He winked at Buffy. "At least until we manage to order something?"

Despite everything, Buffy had to stifle a giggle. He smiled broadly at her. "Now can you to apologise to each other?"

Drusilla raised her head and glanced sheepishly at Spike, like a child who' had just been reprimanded. "I'm sorry, William."

"Not me you should be apologising to."

Buffy held the woman's gaze when her blue eyes turned to her.

"I really am sorry, Buffy, but I just worry so much about my son…"

"I will do nothing to hurt him, Mrs. Pratt-Giles."

Drusilla smiled prettily. "Good." She clapped her hands together. "Now shall we order? I'm famished."

Spike snorted, well used to his mother's abrupt change of mood. "Sounds like a plan to me. Buff? Will you read me the menu, please?"

"Sure, I will." She squeezed his hand. "But after you apologise to your mom."

Drusilla flashed her a look of surprise, then transferred her attention to her son.

"I'm sorry I said what I did. I was out of line."

"Yes, you were," said Drusilla, with a pout that reminded Buffy of the one she'd kissed off Spike earlier.

Rupert coughed softly. "The poor waiter has been hovering over in the corner for an age. Let's get this celebration started, shall we?"

Buffy quietly read out the menu so Spike could make his selections, and the atmosphere gradually began to ease. But she still felt relieved when she drove Spike back to his apartment.

Later as they snuggled up in bed, Spike said, "Thank you."

"What for?"

"For making me stay. It was the right choice."

Smiling, Buffy nuzzled at his neck. "I know."

"Hey! Conceited much?" Spike rolled over so he had her pinned beneath him.

"It's not being conceited if it's true." She grinned and thrust upwards with her pelvis, feeling all too clearly the affect it had on Spike. "While you're there…"

Laughing, Spike shifted so his erection nestled between her thighs. "Pray do tell me what you had in mind, wench."

He hissed as her small hand encircled him and guided him to her entrance. "Get to work, buster, or there'll be trouble!"

Spike chuckled. "Yes, boss." With well practicedwell-practiced ease, he slipped inside her, both moaning with pleasure.

They made love slowly and passionately, knowing exactly how to give the most pleasure to each other, before falling asleep still wrapped in each other's arms.

xoxoxox

After Buffy had left to open the store the next morning, Spike sat on the sofa feeling more than a little bored. He knew he needed to find work of some sort before he went as insane as he suspected his mother was.

He checked his watch and decided that nine thirty on a Saturday was a reasonable time to call someonewatch, decided that nine thirty on a Saturday was a reasonable time to call someone, and pressed the speed dial key he'd assigned to Riley. The phone was picked up on the third ring.

"Hello?"

"Uh." The female voice caught Spike unawares.

"Uh? That's it? Buddy, if you're gonna do a dirty phone call then you really need to practice some more."

Recognising that straight-talking attitude, Spike laughed. "Morning, Faith. It's Spike. Is Ri around, or have you worn him out?"

"Hi, Spike." He could practically hear her grinning. "I can tell you that boy really has some stamina. I had to—"

"I think I get the gist, thanks. So where is the big guy?"

"He's fixing me breakfast. Shall I get him to call you later, 'cause I'm thinking breakfast might take a while."

"Yeah, that'd be good. And…take it easy on him, okay?"

Faith huffed. "He gives as good as he gets. See you later."

She'd hung up before Spike had a chance to say goodbye.

"Good on yer, mate," Spike said to himself, grinning broadly, delighted that Faith had come through for his friend.

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. In just two weeks' time, he and Buffy would be jetting off for England. He'd been online and booked tickets for several attractions, not wanting Buffy to miss out on the tourist trail just because he was blind. It would be strange going back. Stranger still to seeseeing some of his old friends again. He sighed. Back then, they'd thought they'd be friends forever.

Knowing he was heading for a pity party if he didn't get off his arse and do something, Spike decided to do a little more research for something he had planned for the trip.


	25. Chapter 25

Treading Water

Chapter Twenty-Five

"No!" Spike woke with a yell, sitting bolt upright in bed.

Usually he liked to dream. His dreams were the only place where colours blazed and his sight was twenty-twenty. But for the past few nights they'd become something else entirely.

He flopped back on the pillows, panting harshly, trying to shake off the feeling that what he'd experienced was real.

"Oh, shite," he muttered, rubbing his hands over his face.

"Spike?"

He rolled onto his side to face Buffy. "Sorry I woke you." His fingers reached out and touched her face.

"It's okay. Bad dream, huh?"

"And then some."

"Want to talk about it?" Buffy shifted closer, gently kissing his lips.

"Hmm, that's good." He tried to deepen the kiss, but she pulled back.

"Don't try to change the subject. That's the fourth night in a row that you've been woken by bad dreams. So spill."

Spike sighed and turned so he lay on his back once again. "It's just the accident. Haven't dreamt about it for ages, but I suppose the trip back home has made it resurface."

"Oh, baby…" Buffy put her head on his chest and stroked his abdomen with her fingers in soothing circles over his flesh.

"They've all been a bit different at the start. But I can see, Buffy." His voice choked with emotion.

Buffy waited patiently until he continued, her heart breaking for him. How cruel to believe he could see, and then to lose it again, even if only a dream?

"They all end the same way though. I wake up when I open my eyes. It was weird when I was in hospital 'cause I could hear people talking for a while before I actually came out of the coma. Was a bit like being underwater, I guess." His sad smile, brought tears to her eyes. "But then in the dream I open my eyes and nothing changes. That's it. Game over."

"No," said Buffy. "Not game over. You've just changed levels, that's all."

He snorted. "That's one way of viewing it." Dropping a kiss on his head, he muttered, "This level's got you on it, so I got the bonus anyway." He shook his head, dispelling the final maudlin thoughts left over from the dream. "Come here."

Buffy shuffled up and raised her face to his, their lips meeting in the passion that so easily sparked between them. Their lovemaking was slow and sensuous. Buffy didn't mention the dreams again, until they'd showered and were eating breakfast.

"We don't have to go to London, you know. I'm sure Rupert would understand."

Spike stilled his spoonful of cereal halfway to his mouth. "I want to go, Buffy." He put the spoon back in the bowl. "Hell, I think I need to go. They're just dreams." He reached out with his hand, sure in the knowledge that she would find it and hold it. "I've come to terms with what's happened. Well, consciously I have anyway." With a rueful smile he squeezed her fingers. "I just need to face my demons, I guess. Maybe then my subconscious will leave me be."

"As long as you're sure…?"

He nodded. "I am. We're going to London, and we'll have a bloody good time."

Giving her hand one last squeeze he let go before reclaiming his spoon. Buffy knew that as far as he was concerned the subject was closed. She wondered if she should call Fred at Sandar Lodge and ask her advice on how the upcoming trip had triggered nightmares.

xoxoxox

When Buffy left for the store, Spike booted his computer up and checked his emails with the help of his specially adapted software. He'd emailed his old employers to let him know he would be back in London for a few days. In his search for some sort of employment, he'd thought it wise to touch base with them in the hope of a good reference. After his accident, he'd asked one of his friends to call them to hand in his resignation, too bleak about his future to bear to contact them himself.

His face broke into a grin when he discovered his inbox contained a message from them. Holding his breath, he opened it.

_Hi Spike – great to hear from you. We've missed you. I know me and the team would like to meet up with you for lunch one day if you're free? Let me know and I'll get something organised. Regards, David._

It did his ego no harm to hear that he'd been missed by his colleagues, but at the same time, the thought of facing them all scared him half to death. He replied before he could chicken out, arranging to meet at the office and suggesting going on to what used to be their usual hangout once the magazine had gone to print.

Wandering to the bedroom to begin packing his suitcase, Spike mused at how much his life had changed in what was still less than a year. Emotionally, he'd had it all. From the taken-for-granted ease of life before the accident, to the suicidal thoughts of the first few months after it. His thoughts turned to Buffy – no surprise there. He reckoned Rupert had been right when he'd said that Buffy might be a good match, and he honestly didn't know what he would do without her. She'd turned him around. Given him a reason to live again.

He pulled the suitcase out from under the bed and put it on the mattress, before methodically filling it with his clothes. Next, he packed his cabin bag, making sure he put his iPod in there, as he'd loaded it with audio books for the flight.

When Buffy arrived that evening, he was all packed, with the luggage sitting on the floor near the door to the apartment.

"Hey, babe," Buffy said, as she let herself in. "Wow, all ready to go. You really are the most organised person I know."

Spike snorted dismissively. "Got to be now, but you really wouldn't have liked my flat back home. Typical lad's place." He wrapped his arms around her when she kissed him. "So…tomorrow's the big day. I'm glad you said you could drop by for something to eat, tonight. I'll miss having you stay over."

"Well, I did say you could stay at mine for a change. I've got to finish packing—"

Quirking a brow, he said, "Finish?"

"Okay, okay! Start packing." She prodded him on the shoulder. "It's harder for me to pack than you."

"How do you make that out? I mean, I'm the one who's got the disability here, right? Or is there something I should know…?" Spike grinned.

"You know what I mean. What's in your suitcase? Jeans, T-shirts, shirts, your Converse trainers, underwear – but I hope not too many – and that's it. Whereas I have to pack, jeans, skirts, dresses, blouses, jackets—"

Spike held up his hand. "I get the point. I don't think putting me in the middle of that mix would work, do you? I'd either end up tripping on something you got out or—"

"Shagging me senseless on the clothes covered bed," Buffy interjected, trying and failing to pull off an English accent.

Laughing Spike agreed with her. "You know me so well, Summers."

They kissed again, and then walked hand in hand to the kitchen, where the evidence of Spike's cooking was making itself known by the aromas wafting towards them. Over their meal Spike told Buffy about the response from his former employer. Pride swelled in her when he said he'd agreed to meet with them all. She knew how difficult this trip was going to be for him. Fred's assurance that returning to London would likely be the final hurdle Spike had to overcome before truly coming to terms with his blindness meant Buffy could now really allow her excitement to have free rein. As a result she could barely eat the food Spike had so lovingly prepared.

xoxoxox

"Nearly there," Xander said, slowing the cab to a crawl as he looked for a space to pull in to drop them off at LAX. "Hell, this place is always busy."

In the rear seat, Spike dug into his jacket pocket, pulled out a pair of dark tinted Rayban Wayfarers, and slipped them on. Feeling Buffy's eyes on him, he turned to her.

"What?"

Smiling, she said, "How do you always know when I'm looking at you?" She didn't wait for a reply. "Why the sunglasses? You've never bothered before."

"Yeah…well…" Spike's cheeks pinked up a little. "I've never had to sit on a bloody plane full of people before, have I? Um…apart from when I came over…and to be honest I wasn't up to taking much notice of anything then. But I don't want to seem like I'm staring at anyone, okay? Might give someone the wrong idea." He squeezed her knee. "It could lead to all sorts of bother."

"Bother? I'm bother?" Buffy cupped her hand behind his head and drew him into a kiss.

Neither took any notice when Xander opened the cab's door. "Ahem! I can only stop here for ten minutes so can you guys give it a rest, already?"

Laughing, Spike and Buffy did as bidden and clambered out of the cab. Xander got the luggage out of the trunk, taking care to give Spike his cabin bag and then helping him take the handle of his wheeled suitcase.

"Have an awesome time, okay." He clapped Spike on the shoulder.

"We will, mate." Spike was thankful that his voice was steady even though his stomach churned with anxiety. "See you in ten days."

Buffy gave Xander a quick hug, picked up her luggage and walked with Spike into the terminal. By now, well used to quietly pointing out potential hazards, they reached the check-in without incident. Free of their suitcases, they opted to go directly to the departure lounge and settled themselves down to wait for the time to board.

At Spike's insistence, Buffy had gone to take a look at the stores, when a soft voice spoke Spike's name.

"Mr. Pratt?"

Suppressing the shudder his surname always produced, he nodded. "Yes, that's me."

"Good morning, sir. My name is Amanda, one of the attendants on your flight and I've come to assist you to board the aircraft."

"Oh…right. Thanks, but my girlfriend's off shopping somewhere, and I don't want to get on without her."

"That's fine, sir. Perhaps you could come to the gate when she returns, so we can get you settled before general boarding commences. There will be an announcement about priority boarding shortly, so she will probably hear it."

"Thanks. Will do."

Spike gave out a little sigh, guessing people would be looking at him. He kept his head down, fiddling with the strap to his cabin bag.

"Hey. Are you okay?" Buffy asked, sitting beside him.

Smiling, he nodded, "Yeah. We've got to go to the gate. They want us to board ahead of the rest." He got to his feet. "Did you buy anything?"

"No. Was fun window-shopping though."

Something Spike could never do again, but he found it didn't hurt as much as it used to. "Shall we go get on the plane?"

"First class, here we come." Buffy waited for him to take her elbow, then guided him carefully to the boarding gate, ensuring he didn't trip over anyone's feet.

Amanda led them to their seats. More like pods than seats really. Buffy was near to the window, with Spike next to her. They listened as Amanda ran through all the features of their seats, which could be adapted into beds once airborne. As the other passengers filed through on their way to economy, Buffy couldn't help but grin.

"I'm going to London," she said, briefly touching Spike's hand.

"You are, indeed." He smiled in her direction, and she wished he'd take off the dark glasses, his eyes might be useless to him, but they still somehow managed to show her his feelings.

"I love you, Spike."

"Love you too."

Moments later the engines roared into life, and they left California behind as the aircraft headed east.

xoxoxox

The flight had been uneventful and now they were descending over the city of London as the aircraft approached Heathrow airport.

"If you keep on looking out the window, you might catch a glimpse of the London Eye, that big wheel thing I told you about," said Spike, visualising the scene in his mind.

Buffy pressed her face against the window. "I see it!" She turned to him and grinned. "Wow, it's huge. You must be able to see for miles. Have you been on it?" She held her breath at her thoughtless words, but he simply smiled at her.

"No. Never got around to it."

A couple of bumps indicated they touched down, the engines screamed in reverse to slow them down to taxi speed, and then the plane bounced its way to the gate. Spike and Buffy were amongst the first to disembark. He held onto her arm with trembling fingers, unprepared for how much stepping foot on his homeland would affect him.

Rupert had thought of everything. A man holding a card with their names on was spotted by Buffy as they exited through the arrivals hall. He took them to a waiting car, before speeding them away to their hotel.


	26. Chapter 26

Treading Water

Chapter Twenty-Six

"Oh my God, this room is amazing!" Buffy enveloped Spike in a hug, firm enough to make him wince.

"Glad you like it, love."

He tried to smile, he really did, but after listening to her enthuse about everything from the view, to the colour of the quilt on the bed, Spike was feeling his dark world closing in on him again. Gently disentangling himself, he asked where the bathroom was and, cane tapping, made his way there solely for a moment away from her chatter.

A splash of cool water on his face didn't help his mood, and he wondered if returning to London had been such a good idea after all. He ached to see all his old haunts, and knew he'd been driven down streets close to where he'd used to live on the ride from the airport to the hotel.

"Spike? Are you okay?" Buffy tapped lightly at the door.

"Yeah. I'm good." He flushed the toilet, took a deep breath and walked back into the main room. "Just a bit tired."

She took his hand in hers. "It's odd to lose a day like that. Feels late at night, but it's early morning here."

They walked over to the bed, flopping down on its surface.

"I'm sorry for babbling away like I did," said Buffy, squeezing his hand.

"It's okay. It's not you. Like I said, I'm knackered." Dreading the thought of having a nightmare on the plane, he'd not even attempted to sleep. "I didn't get much kip, whereas you slept most of the flight away."

Buffy giggled. "It was just so cosy. I don't think I'll ever be able to fly economy again!"

"A woman with expensive tastes, eh?"

"I don't know about expensive tastes, but I sure have good taste in men." She kissed him hard on the mouth. "And, boy does my man taste good."

"That so?"

Pushing the bleak thoughts out of his mind, Spike pulled her on top of him, slipping his hand beneath her blouse, letting it slid its way up her back to the strap of her lacy bra. Buffy gasped as, with practised ease, he unfastened it with one hand, the other ready to capture a breast as it was released from the bra.

"How do you do that?"

Laughing, he said, "It's a gift."

She undid the buttons on her blouse, taking it off before tossing it onto a nearby chair.

x0x0x0x

Spike slept like a baby after their lovemaking, until the dream tore him from his slumber with a racing heart and a smothered cry on his lips. He listened to Buffy's breathing, relieved to discover that he hadn't woken her this time. The regular rhythm of her respiration soothed him, and he dozed until she began to stir.

"Hey there, sleepyhead." He dropped a kiss on her hair as she snuggled closer. "Shall we go find some lunch? I'm starving."

"Room service," mumbled Buffy. "I like it here."

"Come on. There's a city out there waiting for a California girl to go say hello to it. If we sleep any longer, we'll be awake all night." He gave her a nudge.

She stretched cat-like and smiled at him. "Give me ten minutes and I'll be good to go."

An hour later they left the hotel, Buffy armed with a London A-Z guide, in search of the nearest tube station. One thing Spike had forgotten about London was just how crowded it was.

On the journey to the London underground station, despite the sunglasses and white cane clearly illustrating that he was blind, Spike still got jostled from time to time. The station platform disoriented him completely with its echoes and rushing wind. He clung to Buffy's elbow, like a scared child, feeling way out of his depth as they waited for the train to arrive.

Things didn't improve once on the train. Someone kindly offered him their seat, which made him mutter his thanks through gritted teeth. Being seated meant he had to let go of Buffy, who held on to one of the straps hanging down from the ceiling. His breathing increased as he began to feel claustrophobic. He was squeezed by the numbers of people in the carriage and the memory of the last time he'd travelled on the underground, with a bunch of mates on their way back from a football match, all a little drunk.

Buffy glanced at Spike and cursed herself for not noticing his tension until now. The knuckles of the hand holding his cane were almost as white as the cane itself. She bent down until her face was level with his.

"Can I sit on your lap, before I fall over?" She kissed him full on the mouth, not caring about the looks it earned her.

He smiled. "Well, when you put it like that."

He retracted his cane, and patted his knees. Buffy pulled his arms around her, keeping hold of his hands, and hoped she wouldn't get too heavy. A glance at the map on the wall of the carriage told her that their stop would be the next one.

Holding Buffy grounded Spike, and he managed to keep from hyperventilating, but he did vow on using cabs to get around from then on. Rupert had footed the bill for the trip, so Spike figured he could afford to blow some cash on taxi fares.

To keep Spike's mind occupied while they travelled up the long steep escalator to the surface, Buffy's hand caressed his bottom as she stood behind him to allow those who wanted to walk up them to pass.

His muttered, "Bloody hell," when her hand snaked between his thighs had her giggling fit to burst.

Finally out in the open, if not very fresh, air in Knightsbridge, Spike pulled Buffy close and kissed her.

"Thank you."

"What for?"

"You know what for. I was freaking out and you calmed me down. So… thank you."

"I wasn't far behind you in the freak out stakes. I don't think I like the tube," said Buffy. She eased his hand onto her elbow and the pair walked slowly along.

"So you don't mind if we get a taxi back to the hotel?"

"Mind? I'll be delighted. Felt like a rat trapped in a sewer!"

They both chuckled before Spike said, "So can you see it yet?"

A few strides later, Buffy squealed. "Oh! It's there!"

"I should hope it is." Reluctant to take his hand from Buffy's elbow, Spike asked her the time.

"It's one-thirty."

"Perfect."

"Why?" Buffy turned to stare at him. "What's perfect?"

"I booked a table for two o'clock."

"A table? We're going to eat lunch in Harrods?"

"We are." Spike grinned. "I booked it last week. Can't get much more English than lunch in Harrods, apart from, maybe, afternoon tea at the Ritz. And we're doing that on Friday."

"No way! You're crazy."

"I know, but don't get too excited. Got plans to go to some normal places too."

"Places you used to go to?" asked Buffy quietly.

"Yeah. And let me tell you, posh they are not."

They walked through the doors to London's most famous store.

"We need to get to the fourth floor. Can you see where the lift is?"

"You're getting more English by the minute. Lift!" Buffy glanced around. "Oh…over there."

Alone in the small elevator, Buffy kissed Spike. "Hee! I'm kissing in the elevator in Harrods!"

"No, love. You're snogging in the lift." Spike exaggerated his accent.

On their arrival at the restaurant, an impeccably attired waiter showed them to their table and earned points from both Buffy and Spike by matter-of-factly reading out the menu for them.

"Buffy, I hope you don't mind, but I'd sort of planned for us to a have a traditional roast beef dinner, with Yorkshire puddings and everything. Is that okay?"

"Sounds great."

"Wine, sir? Madam?" asked the waiter when he'd written down their order, Spike having told him how he'd like the food arranged on the plate.

"Just mineral water for me, please," said Buffy.

"Same for me, too. Thanks," said Spike. The thought of braving walking through the store slightly tipsy made the decision to abstain easy.

"I still can't believe we're here," said Buffy, glancing around the restaurant. "It's awesome."

"You're awesome."

Buffy chuckled. "I know!"

Feeling fit to burst after the wonderful meal, they walked through the store. Buffy's eyes bugged out at the prices of some of the clothes. Spike insisted on buying her a small teddy bear with a Harrods T-shirt on as a souvenir.

They hailed a cab after walking down the street for a little while, and by the time they got back to the hotel, they were ready to relax a bit.

They spent their first evening in the bar of their hotel. Buffy quizzed Spike over where he used to go and tried to get him to let her know about some of the things he'd pre-booked for them to do. Though Spike was forthcoming about the former, he kept tight-lipped about the latter.

x0x0x0x

Spike rubbed his palms on his denim clad knees and smiled when Buffy put one of her hands over his.

"I hope they like me," she said.

"They will."

He smiled weakly, hating the fact that he was so nervous about just about everything these days. They'd been in London for three days, and he'd trudged around more tourist trail sights than he cared to remember in his determination for Buffy to get the most out of her trip. He'd tried to pretend he hadn't heard the whispers about a blind man sitting on the top deck of an open-topped tour bus, or of him wandering around the V & A museum. But it had still hurt. It somehow made the darkness even darker.

And now, he faced a real test. The return to the independent record shop where he'd wasted his education by manning the register and writing gig reports for their monthly magazine.

Buffy peered out at the store's façade, trying to visualise a pre-accident Spike striding in there without a care in the world. They stood on the pavement for a while after the taxi had sped away to give Spike time to compose himself.

With a deep breath, he turned his face to hers. "Okay, here goes." His right hand found Buffy's elbow and in they went, a bell ringing merrily as the door opened.

Surprised by the amount of vinyl records the store stocked, Buffy glanced around curiously, and spotted a short, overweight man, with a shiny bald head, standing behind the counter.

"Spike! You made it!" He lifted a section of the counter so he could come to greet them.

His smile faltered for a moment when he saw the white cane, but he soon regained his composure.

"Dave," Spike held out his hand, "I always make good on my promises – you should know that."

Dave shook the offered hand. "Yeah…yeah. Got to hand it to you. You always came up with the goods you said you would. Your manners aren't any better. Are you ever going to introduce me to the image of perfection standing beside you?"

Spike gave out a snort. "Still the same old smarmy git. Dave, this is Buffy Summers. Buffy, this is Dave Goodwin, owner of the best record shop in… well on this street anyway."

"Hi. Pleased to meet you, Dave."

"You too." Dave turned his attention back to Spike. "About what happened… I—"

"Forget it." Spike's voice came out sharper than he intended. "Sorry."

"No, it's okay. Are you alright, though? Apart from…"

Behind the dark glasses, Spike squeezed his eyes shut. He hated all this crap. He mentally counted to three before replying.

"I'm doing alright. The optic nerves are shot so no vision at all and no chance of repair." His fingers found Buffy's hand and gripped it. "But, I met Buffy and I'm playing guitar in a band every now and then."

"I hope your playing's improved since I last heard you," Dave said, winking at Buffy.

"Oi. I wasn't that bad."

"Only teasing, mate." Dave glanced at his watch. "The others should be in the pub by now. Shall we go down there now? I could do with a sit down; my feet are aching."

"They'd ache less if you lost some weight, you fat sod."

"How do you know I haven't lost weight? It's been getting on for a year."

Spike turned his head towards Buffy. "Is he thin?"

"Hey, don't bring me into the middle of this," Buffy said, laughing. "Where's this pub? I think I'm going to need a drink if I have to listen to you two all evening."

"It's just round the corner," said Dave. "How did you two meet?"

"That is a tale to be told over a pint and not before," Spike said, taking hold of a blushing Buffy's elbow ready to be guided out of the shop and into the pub.


	27. Chapter 27

Treading Water

Chapter Twenty-Seven

"Here we are. Mabel's Tavern in all her glory," said Dave, pushing the door open.

Buffy felt Spike hesitate as the smell of beer and the sound of chatter reached them.

"Are you sure about this?" she whispered.

He took a deep breath, drew himself up to his full height and nodded. "As I'll ever be." He allowed her to lead him inside.

"Er…do you want to find a table and I'll get the drinks?" Dave asked.

Spike found himself agreeing although he'd rather have stood at the bar for a while. He wondered if the others were there yet. Were they all staring at him? Was Dave talking to them already?

Buffy chose a table in a corner where there was a bench seat against the wall and several stools. Once Spike was seated, she slid along the leather bench to settle beside him. She could tell he was trying his best to appear nonchalant, but he fairly hummed with tension. His left hand was on the table, rubbing across its surface.

"What are you doing?" she said.

"Uh…trying to find a beer mat."

She pushed one across the dark wood surface until it touched his fingers.

"There you go."

"Thanks." His right hand joined his left and he proceeded to tear it up into ever smaller pieces.

"If I'd know you were going to murder it, I wouldn't have let you have the poor thing."

He smiled tightly. "Habit of mine. Used to drive everyone nuts." Turning his head towards where he knew the bar would be, he added, "Dave's taking a long time."

"There's a big line," said Buffy, glancing over at Spike's friend. "He's talking to a couple who've just walked in."

"Tall thin girl with long brown hair, and a stocky bloke with a ponytail?"

"Um…well, her hair is cut into a bob, but the guy has got his hair in a band. Who are they?"

"Rick and Janice. They worked with me in the shop. Janice did the invoices and the like. Me and Rick used to take turns in going round the markets trying to find rare vinyl records or serving in the shop." He shrugged. "Sounds pretty crap, doesn't it? But it was fun."

"Nothing crappy about doing something you enjoy. They're all coming over."

"'Kay."

The hand nearest Buffy stopped shredding the beer mat and found her thigh. She covered it with her own and squeezed.

"Spike, mate. I can't believe you're back. It's good to se—er catch up," the man said, sitting on a stool opposite him.

Janice touched Spike's shoulder before bending down to kiss his cheek. "It's just not the same without you."

Spike murmured, "Hi, Jan. Rick."

Dave sat on the stool closest to Buffy and put down the tray of drinks.

"Buffy, these two are Rick and Janice. We've all known each other for years. Rick, Janice, this is Buffy, Spike's girlfriend.

They exchanged hellos.

Dave began handing out the drinks, hesitating when he had Spike's in his hand. "Er…"

At first Buffy thought he was worried about how Spike would be able to find it, but then Dave chuckled. "Hell, you haven't been in here for five minutes and you've trashed a bloody beer mat. Rick, pass me that spare one near you." He waited until the mat was situated next to the remains of the first one, before setting down a pint of beer on it. "There you are. A pint of Bishop's Finger. I doubt you've drunk any of this in a while."

Spike shook his head. "That's one thing about California…the weather's great, but the beer's shite." He found the glass, brought it to his lips and drank deeply. He sighed with pleasure as he put it back down. "God, that is good."

"You're teasing. That beer isn't really called that," said Buffy, sipping on her glass of white wine.

"It is," said Rick. "Some have even weirder names than this."

"How long have you been together?" Janice asked.

"A few months now," Spike said.

"Months? Hell, that's a new one," Rick said, grinning broadly.

Frowning, Buffy said, "What do you mean?"

"He thought he was risking marriage if he dated the same girl more than three times, so he made sure it was only ever once or twice."

"Rick!" Spike and Janice yelled in unison.

Buffy laughed. "It's okay, Rick. I've gotten an idea of what he was like when he lived here."

"What?" Spike turned his face towards her. "Has Oz been talking? I'll bloody kill him!"

"No… but thanks for the heads up. I'll have to quiz him when we get home."

"So, Spike," said Dave, "You said you'd tell me how you two met."

"Spike…don't please…" Buffy begged.

"Aw come on," Rick said, leaning forward slightly. "You've definitely got to tell us now. Buffy's turned beetroot!"

As Spike told them, they all laughed and began to relax. Spike's friends no longer worried about saying the wrong thing, and Spike stopped worrying what they'd think of him.

When the time finally came for them to leave, Dave called them a cab, and then as they were getting in, amidst promises to keep in touch, Dave slipped an envelope into Spike's hands.

"What's this?" Spike said.

"Wait until you get to your hotel, and then Buffy'll read it for you," said Dave. "But trust me, I think you'll like it."

"Okay…but it better not be a practical joke. I know what you're like."

It wasn't until they were halfway to the hotel, that Spike realised he hadn't asked Dave about a reference, or if he had any contacts that wanted reviews of live bands written.

"Damn it."

"It's okay. You can call him in the morning," said Buffy. "Tonight was social, not business."

"I wonder what's in the envelope."

"We'll soon find out."

Back in their hotel suite, Buffy had barely toed off her shoes when Spike asked her to open it.

"Impatient, much?" She tore open the envelope. "There's a letter inside and a pair of tickets."

"Tickets? What for?" He held his breath, though he just knew what name would be printed on them.

"It says Stiff Little Fingers."

Spike exhaled, squeezing his eyes shut. "I guessed as much. What's the letter say?"

"Says if we go to the side door of the venue a half hour before doors open, Dave's arranged for us to go inside. That's nice of him…" She took in Spike's expression. "Or not." She crossed the room to him, putting her hand on his arm.

He sat on the bed with a thump.

"You're trembling. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm being stupid. I'm fine."

Sitting next to him, she said, "Come on, Spike. You can tell me."

He pulled the dark glasses from his face, leaning over to put them on the bedside cabinet before he spoke.

"They were my favourite band. I was on the way to one of their gigs when I crashed the car." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I haven't been able to listen to any of their songs since."

"That's understandable. It's okay. Just forget about it. We don't have to go." When he didn't say anything, she stood up. "I'll throw them in the trash."

"Don't."

"Why not?"

"'Cause."

Buffy laughed. "That clears it up nicely."

Despite himself Spike chuckled. "Sorry, babe." He patted the bed. "Don't stay all the way over there."

She sat beside him and took his hand in hers. "So?"

"So, it's daft, isn't it? Getting the shakes when I think of them. I've seen them in concert more times than I've had hot dinners. So I reckon we should go."

"But—"

"No buts, Buff. I knew parts of this trip might be tough, but I've got to get through it. For my own peace of mind." He smiled. "I guess that was one but."

"If you're sure?"

"I am." He hoped she wouldn't notice his crossed fingers.

"I'm so proud of you, Spike. God, I love you so much." Buffy threw her arms around him with such force that they ended up on their backs on the mattress.

Tears pricked at Spike's eyes. How could he continue to mourn the loss of his sight when it brought Buffy into his life? They would never have met, of that he was certain. Before the accident, wild horses wouldn't have been able to drag him to his mother's house.

His voice thick with emotion, he managed to mumble. "Want to show me just how much?"

"Oh, yeah!"

xoxoxox

It was with much trepidation that Spike got out of the taxi at the side door of the Brixton Academy. Light drizzle misted over him, threatening to make his hair curl, which Buffy adored and he hated. Once the fare had been paid, the cab rolled away from the kerb.

"I'm not too sure you'll like the music," Spike said as they walked to the door.

"I might." Buffy's tone was defensive.

"No, love. I've listened to your iPod. I know you won't. Bloody boy bands." He shook his head sadly. "Seriously though. Thanks for coming."

Buffy kissed his cheek by way of an answer and rapped on the door. Soon afterwards it swung open with a creak worthy of a horror movie.

"You must be Spike and Buffy. I'm Rob. Come inside."

"Thanks, mate," Spike said.

Buffy peered around the interior as they followed Rob. A stocky man with unruly brown hair strode towards then, but he spoke before she could warn Spike.

"Spike!" His voice held the unmistakable burr of Northern Irish. "Man, I'm glad you came."

"Jake. I'm glad to be here."

Spike realised it was true. He'd missed this so much. Buffy smiled as they did one of those awkward man hugs.

"Who's this?" Jake asked, grinning at Buffy.

"Sorry. Jake, this is my girlfriend, Buffy. Buff, this is Jake Burns, lead singer of the best punk band in the world."

Jake laughed. "Still got a way with words then." He sobered. "We were all really sorry to hear what had happened."

As ever when people mentioned it, Spike squirmed a little. "Yeah…well…"

"Hey, Rob, how about getting us a drink, before the doors open?"

"No worries. What do you all want?" Rob took the orders and disappeared to get the drinks.

"It's going to get pretty crowded in here. I thought maybe you'd prefer to be backstage?" Jake said.

Nodding, Spike agreed. By the time Rob reappeared with the drinks, Spike and Buffy were settled in a couple of not very comfortable chairs, just to the side of where the band would walk on stage. The rest of the band came by to say hello.

"Still trying to play that guitar?" asked Ali McMordie, the bassist.

Spike grinned. "I play it better than you could, you git. You only have four strings to worry about."

"That so?" Ali said. "Want to prove it? Come on stage and play for a song or two?"

"No way. Getting up on stage? It's not for me. I know we've jammed at sound checks, but a gig…"

Buffy up to now enjoying listening to the banter, decided to chip in, "He plays in a band in the States. Most times they come to a local club."

Ali straightened up in his seat. "That so?"

"Jeez, Buffy. Whose side are you on? This is not going to be like playing with the Dingoes."

"Do it, Spike. For me."

She knew she was being underhanded by saying that, but equally, she knew she was right to push him. The band was being amazing, and if playing with them helped Spike lay some of his ghosts, then she was all for it.

"Alright, alright, but please make sure I don't bloody trip up over the wires or anything."

Ali clapped him on the shoulder and strode away to tell the others.

"That," said Spike turning his head towards Buffy, "was sneaky."

"I know. But you'll thank me for it in the morning. You know you would have regretted saying no."

"Might still regret it, if I cock it up."

"You won't."

Ali and Jake returned.

"We've still got time for you to have a quick practice," said Jake. "You don't mind, do you, Buffy?"

"Not at all." She stood when Spike did, ready to guide him to the stage.

"It's okay, Buff." Spike flicked out his cane. "I'll be alright. They won't let me fall arse over tit."

"They'd better not." She fixed Ali and Jake with a stern look.

Jake clapped his palm over his heart, "We'll look after him, I promise."

Buffy was still chuckling, as she sat back down and watched Spike pick his way onto the stage.

It was decided that Spike would join Stiff Little Fingers on stage for the final encore, when they would play two of their best liked and oldest songs, Alternative Ulster and Johnny Was.

Buffy's heart was in her mouth when the time came for him to go on. The music and crowd were loud and raucous, and she just prayed that he'd be all right. She needn't have worried.

Jake introduced Spike as an old friend, not mentioning why he'd guided Spike on, much to her relief, and the drummer counted the band into the song. Spike's worry about playing an electric guitar instead of his trusty acoustic proved unfounded, for to Buffy's ears anyway, he seemed note perfect.

She ran to greet him as he put down the guitar.

"Baby, you are awesome!"

Throwing her arms around him, she kissed him until a cough from Ali reminded her that they were blocking the narrow exit. Like the aftermath of a Dingoes gig, everyone involved was on a high, laughing and joking, with copious amounts of beer being drunk. Seeing Spike at the centre of it all, she caught a glimpse of how he'd been before fate robbed him of his sight and consequently of most of his confidence. She loved him dearly now, but knew she'd love him even more in the future when he had really laid all his demons to rest.

Several fans had been allowed backstage, and Buffy watched as one man in walked up behind where Spike was standing.

"Spike?"

That one word had a galvanising effect on Spike. He whirled round so quickly that Buffy feared he'd lose his balance, his lips drawn into a thin line. When he spoke, his voice was ice.

"Martin."


	28. Chapter 28

Treading Water

Chapter Twenty-Eight

"Been a long time," said Martin, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Spike's left hand balled into a fist. "Just about a year, last time I checked."

The tall, almost emaciated looking man shifted uncomfortably.

"Hmm. So you got fixed up, then?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know… your eyes."

Buffy leapt from her seat and got between the two men. She really thought Spike was going to try to hit the other man, and no way could a blind man win a fistfight.

"Hey, you were great," she said.

Spike frowned, wondering why she was saying that when they'd spoken after he'd gotten off stage. She wrapped her hands around his clenched fist, and he got the message. She was worried that he'd lash out. The thought of her coming to his rescue pissed him off, and he turned his attention back to Martin.

"They're not fixed, Martin. Never will be. I can't see a fucking thing. Not a thing. Seem to remember the last time you saw me was the day the docs here told me there was no cure." His voice dripped with bitterness and resentment.

"Don't be like that. You got shipped off to God knows where in the States. I didn't have any way to contact you."

"That was two weeks later. I sat there in that sodding hospital bed with the world caving in around me and you never came back. Never even bloody rang me." Breathing heavily, he ran his fingers through his hair. "You were my best mate, Martin, and you just fucking left me there alone."

"But, I didn't…I just couldn't handle it."

"You couldn't handle it?" Spike's voice, if anything, got colder. "What about me? I tell you what, _**mate**_, just fuck off and leave me alone now, like you did back then, eh?"

"Spike…"

Spike didn't acknowledge Martin's words. "Buffy, time to go say goodnight to the band. The taxi'll be here soon."

She glanced at Martin, whose stricken face almost made her feel sorry for him. Almost. Once Spike's hand was on her elbow, they walked away and she resisted the urge to look back at Spike's former friend.

Spike's good humour recovered a little when the members of the band surrounded them to say goodbye and to give them their best wishes, but, to Buffy's dismay, the wattage wasn't quite the same.

The trip back to the hotel would have been silent if Buffy hadn't chatted about meeting Stiff Little Fingers. She waited until they were holding each other in bed before she mentioned Martin.

"So…do you want to talk about it?"

He didn't need to ask who she meant.

"Not much more to tell. You heard the basics already. We were mates. I ended up blind." He shuffled down a little so he could lay his head on Buffy's chest, sighing softly when she stroked his hair. "He came to visit me. Every day at first, then it ended up about every two or three. I guess it was just bad luck he walked in just after the doc left that day. I was a mess." He shuddered at the memory. "Anyway, he listened to me freaking out for a while. Even tried to comfort me, as well as a bloke can do when his mate is sobbing like a kid."

"Oh, Spike…" Buffy dropped a kiss on his head, and tightened her grip around his body.

"He made some half-arsed excuse about having to go somewhere, and that was the last time he visited.

Spike pulled out of Buffy's embrace and swung his legs over the side of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees and cupping his chin in his hands.

"Christ, listen to me. I'm bloody pathetic. We're supposed to be having a good time. We're on holiday."

The bed bounced as Buffy crawled up behind him. "Stop being so hard on yourself, Spike. It's understandable to be upset by meeting him."

"At least I don't have to drag you to where I used to drink with him, now. It's just I wanted this to be perfect…"

"It is perfect." She kissed his neck. "You were always going to have things trigger your emotions by coming back, so don't worry about it. I was really proud of how you handled it."

"You sound like Fred," said Spike.

"She's a wise woman." She laughed softly, her breath tickling his neck.

"That she is." He turned around. "And so are you."

"I know!"

By the time Buffy had finished with him, the painful memories faded into the background again.

xoxoxox

With only three days remaining of their trip, Buffy stepped out of the bathroom, to be greeted by the aroma of bacon and eggs.

"Room service?"

"Why not? We've got a busy day ahead of us." Spike grinned.

Buffy pouted. "And you're still not going to tell me what we're doing?"

Shaking his head, Spike's grin got even wider. "Nope. Now come on and get your breakfast - well, it's more like brunch since it's almost eleven o'clock - before it gets cold."

"Yes, Mom."

"Cheeky sod."

Eating with gusto Buffy complained that she would be pounds heavier by the time she got back to LA.

"The amount of exercise we're getting means we'll be lighter, not heavier." Spike's leer made it clear he wasn't talking about the sightseeing.

"So what have I got to wear today?" She glanced out window. "Looks like it's going to be a lovely day."

"How about I get dressed and you find something that goes with it?"

Spike rose from his seat and walked unerringly to the large mirrored wardrobe. He slid the door open and took out a hanger holding a suit.

"You're wearing that? I didn't even know you'd brought a suit."

"The beauty of staying in a posh hotel. I put it in my suitcase and gave it to be pressed yesterday. It arrived at the same time as breakfast. So do you think that dress I like the feel of would be suitable for you?"

"The green silk one?"

Spike nodded. "Love how it feels when I rub my hands over your body."

Buffy's body temperature went up a notch, when Spike lazily licked his lips.

"Cut it out, or I'll need another shower."

Just over two hours later, the newly re-showered, immaculately clad couple left the hotel in a taxi to a destination still a mystery to Buffy. It pulled up outside The Old Vic.

"How does an afternoon at the theatre sound?" Spike asked.

"Sounds great. For a self confessed punk lover, I'm surprised you like the theatre."

"Hey… I studied literature at uni, remember?"

"So is this going to be Shakespeare?"

Spike chuckled. "Don't worry – it's not. It's called Six Degrees of Separation. It's had good reviews, and I thought bringing you to one of London's best known theatres would be fun."

Sighing with relief, Buffy kissed his cheek. "I really appreciate you bringing me to places like this. I know it's—"

"Shh. Let's go in, yeah?"

They were shown to their seats – the best in the house – and sat holding hands as they waited for the play to begin. Buffy described the interior to Spike when she discovered he'd never actually been to the Old Vic before.

About halfway through the play the audience suddenly screamed with laughter. Spike couldn't work out why the words 'has he got a gun?' could induce such shocked mirth. When Buffy could speak, she described how one of the actors had leapt up totally naked and jiggled about when he said those words in reaction to another character thinking he could be concealing a weapon.

Spike chuckled. "Think I can live without seeing a bloke's danglies on show."

"He had nothing on you," whispered Buffy, kissing his cheek.

When the cast took their bow at the end of the play, Buffy was pleased that she recognised the actor with his clothes on. They took their time in leaving the theatre, letting the worst of the crowd disperse before walking outside and hailing a cab.

Buffy leaned forward, listening intently to the instructions Spike gave the driver.

"Oh," she said. "It must be Friday. You said we were going to afternoon tea at the Ritz on Friday. Is that why we got all dressed up? Most of the audience in the theatre were less formal."

Spike nodded, but his smirk gave away the fact that it wasn't the only reason. For a moment she wished she'd known him when he could see, as she was certain his eyes would have revealed a lot about his personality. She could imagine the way they would have glinted as he smirked, and how cold they could get when he was angry, like when he'd been speaking with Martin. With a sigh, she leant against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"You okay?" he asked, stroking her thigh.

"Yes. I'm good. More than good."

The cab pulled up at the Ritz and the pair climbed out as elegantly as they could. Buffy tried not to goggle when they were led into the dining room. The décor was ridiculously sumptuous. Settled at their table, they were plied with sandwiches and chose tea from a vast selection, Spike opting for the very traditional Earl Grey and Buffy for Moroccan Mint.

"I feel like I'm in one of those period dramas. Should I drink my tea with my little finger sticking out?"

Spike's snort of laughter turned a few heads in their direction, so Buffy decided to give the snooty old ladies something to gawk at. She leaned over the table and fed Spike a piece of cucumber sandwich, tracing his lips with her fingers as he chewed.

"Did I ever tell you you've got the most deliciously kissable lips?" whispered Buffy.

To her surprise, Spike scowled. "Behave yourself."

"Huh?"

"I mean it. We'll get kicked out."

"If the place is so goddamn stuffy then I don't think I want to stay," Buffy said, upset by his reaction.

Spike's scowl melted away and turned into a broad smile. "Oh, you're so easy, Summers."

"What? You were playing me?"

"Yup! Couldn't resist it. Plus, if you'd carried on with the sexy voice and the hand-feeding we really would have been getting kicked out 'cause I would have taken you right here on this table." He rested his palms on the ivory coloured linen covering the table.

"Oh, man! I so want to throw a strawberry at you right now!"

Chuckling, Spike said, "So which do you prefer? Eating fish and chips out of the paper on a park bench near the Thames like yesterday, or partaking of afternoon tea here?"

"Will you hate me if I said the chips? This is way too over the top for me."

"Me too, but I figured we had to do it." His fingers went to the dial of his Braille watch. "It's time to go now anyway."

"I suppose it's no good asking where?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

Another cab ride brought them to a destination that caused Buffy's eyes to glisten with unshed tears.

"Oh, Spike… You didn't have to."

"Yes I did. It's okay."

Buffy craned her neck up and stared at the big wheel with its numerous capsules as the London Eye slowly rotated.

"Wow, it's so tall!"

Slipping his hand in hers, he said, "It's one hundred and thirty metres high, and is the fourth tallest structure in London." Feeling her stare, he added, "What? I did my research."

Buffy laughed then stared at the queue in dismay. "We're going to be waiting for ages. The line's really long."

"No we're not. Can you see the booth? We need to go there and do some queue jumping."

As they walked to the priority boarding area, Buffy heard a sullen looking teenaged boy mutter, "What the point of a blind bloke going on the Eye? Right waste of money." He was shushed by his father, but the increased pressure on Buffy elbow from Spike's fingers told Buffy that he'd heard it too.

She slipped her hand into his whilst they waited to board one of the capsules.

"Spike, your hand's all clammy. Are you okay?"

"'Course I am. Told you before, I'm not fond of heights. And yeah, I know I can't see how high I'm going to be, but I _**know**_ I'm going to be up there." He hoped she wouldn't guess the real reason he was so anxious.

"I suppose that makes some sort of sense." She kissed his cheek.

They boarded the capsule and Buffy led them over to the side, so she would still get a clear view once the others had boarded, and Spike could hold onto the rail if he needed to. The wheel would take thirty minutes to make a full circuit. Spike checked the time with his watch and smiled nervously at Buffy.

Once the wheel was underway, they were served with a glass of champagne and Buffy sought out the landmarks that London was famous for. When their capsule reached the top of the wheel Spike cleared his throat.

"Buffy?"

She turned to him, having to lower her gaze as he sank to his knee in front of her holding her left hand. Spike knew he'd gotten her attention by the gasp she let out. He also knew that the others in the capsule were likely staring at him too.

"Buffy, I know we haven't been together that long, but you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. And I know that I'm probably not the best catch a girl could have, but I love you with all my heart and so I wondered…" He let go of her hand long enough to pull out a small black box from his pocket, opening it to reveal a simple platinum and diamond ring, nestling in red velvet. "Buffy Summers, will you marry me?"

For twenty heart stopping seconds Buffy didn't say a word. Didn't even breathe. Then she shrieked, pulled him to his feet and kissed him to cheers from those watching.

"Er…" said Spike, when their lips parted. "Does that mean yes?"

"Yes! Yes, I will marry you, Spike."

More cheers rang out. The host gave them a few moments before offering them another glass of champagne.

Their ride on the London Eye almost at an end, Spike leaned on the handrail trying to visualise the skyline. He knew from his time at Sandar Lodge that the images of some things would fade over time, whilst others would remain as sharp as the day he'd seen them.

He wrapped his arm around Buffy's waist. He'd left London with his life and dreams in ruins, shattered beyond repair, his future a dark bleak world. Or so he'd thought. But Buffy lightened the darkness that had threatened to engulf him. She was his light, his love, and his life. With her by his side, he knew that his future, though different from what it might have been before the accident, was bright once again.

"What are you thinking?" Buffy's soft voice cut into his thoughts.

Spike smiled, and answered truthfully. "About how much I love you."

She leaned into his embrace. "I love you too."

The End


End file.
